I'll Meet You There
by TheCatalystx
Summary: Right and wrong, good and evil, black and white... There are no easy answers, and the world is filled with grey areas. Simone Argent knows that, especially in a world where the shadows are filled with monsters and things do go bump in the night. She thinks she's got it pretty well figured out, until of course, she meets a certain freshman... Then, things get complicated.
1. Preface

_Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. – Rumi_

 _I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket._ _\- Sylvia Plath_

 _Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top._ _\- Virginia Woolf_

 **Preface**

The dial tone of the phone echoed through the room, the light of the screen blinking down into a thick, sticky pool of blood that stretched from the vacant, wide eyed face of a man, his mouth open and frozen in an everlasting scream. His gun was trapped under his chest, useless and out of ammo, and entirely too far for the young girl to reach—even if she had wanted to.

Her breathing was ragged and torn, faster than she could catch. It raced away from her, out from under the bed, across the floor and over the bodies, before finally disappearing through the cracks of the wood and into the safety of the dark basement below them. She envied it. She wanted to go disappear with it, but she finds that fleeing and moving in general is especially hard to do when one can't breathe, or stop the room from spinning like an out of control car.

But the hallway had been quiet for some time, and she knew if she would call for help, the moment would be now. Another scream tore through the night, so loud that it reached her ears all the way across the house. The neighbors would surely have heard it, if they _had_ neighbors—but they didn't. They chose to live in the country. Easier to train out here, easier to maintain some semblance of anonymity.

And now it's coming back to bite them in the ass. She wished they had neighbors. Maybe then, help would've come long ago. It never occurred to her young mind that the policemen who would've shown up would've just been killed along with everyone else; that they would've simply been innocent lives caught in the crossfire. Canon fodder.

No—to her, the fantasy of policemen coming was something too far out of reach, but a nice enough idea to fantasize about.

The scream was overridden by a roar that shook the house, and the young girl clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, shrinking farther back beneath the bed as the screams were cut to an abrupt end and the roaring won out. She could only imagine what had happened. She had seen it for herself, seen the monsters ripping the throats out of her family, tearing them down like they were no more adverse than children on a playground.

Deciding that they were at least preoccupied on the other end of the house, she tapped into what little courage remained in the bottom of her heart and scrambled out from under the bed. She ignored the blood that soaked the front of her shirt as she army crawled across the wooden floor, her breathing coming so fast and heavy that it had taken on a separate life of its own from her. She felt like another part of herself had separated from her as she swiped up the wet, blood-coated phone with shaking hands.

Her fingers pressed the _three_ on speed dial, forgoing nine-one-one entirely, as she had been taught to do. She couldn't keep her eyes from the door as she waited for the other line to pick up, her heart hammering in her throat, her nerves hyperaware.

She would remember this night for as long as she lived. She would remember the feeling of complete and total devastation, the way her entire body prickled with ice-cold terror, even in her palms and tingling across her fingertips. The way she could barely manage to choke out a coherent thought when her uncle finally answered.

How fast she dove back under the bed, totally ignorant of the blood that glazed all down the front of her. The feeling of the corpse's head on her barefoot as she frantically kicked herself forward and accidentally caught it on the way, kicking him back.

And the words that were exchanged on the phone as she heard the monsters moving just below her. Just a floor below her, down in the basement, where they had trapped the last survivor. She tried not to listen as they finished their job. Oh, she tried.

But she just couldn't help it, as she heard the final scream of absolute horror—filled with the knowledge that this is the last moment you'll see alive—before they killed the last person in the house besides her.

"Julian, make this quick. I'm in the middle of something." The man on the other end of the line rudely said, his voice a mixture of business-like professionalism and impatient annoyance. "Julian, are you there?... Hello?"

The young girl pried her bone white fingers from where they were clamped over her mouth, biting back a sob as she struggled to get the words she was screaming in her mind to come coherently out of her mouth.

"Uncle C-Chris," Her voice trembled like a telephone wire in a hurricane. "I need you. They're—they're all gone, they're all gone. They're—all gone, I need—"

"Simone?" His voice changed so intensely, he didn't even sound like the same person. Gone was the underlying tone of hostility, replaced with panic and dread, and some familial form of concern. "Who's gone? Where are you?"

A crash resounded through the house, just down the hall, followed by a series of thuds, and she couldn't bite back the horrified sob that tore from her throat.

" _Simone!_ " He desperately exclaimed, though it barely registered to her through her terror as footsteps pounded down the hallway, slowly, menacingly. Almost teasing in their leisurely gait. "What's going on? Where's Julian? Put him on, let me talk to your father—"

"It's too late," She whispered, her voice barely above a breath but somehow coming out with all the force of a scream.

"What?" Chris's tone changed again, going cold and foreboding. "Simone, are you safe?" She didn't even dignify that with a response, as the footsteps grew closer, and she shrank farther under the bed. "You need to get to safety!"

The door creaked as it was pushed open, the light from the hall casting a long shadow off the figure that stood in the doorway.

"…They're here." She whispered into the phone. Frantic exclamation erupted from the other end, but she put the phone down and dug through her pocket with trembling fingers as the figure stepped into the room.

* * *

 ** _Okay, a few things. First of all, for those of you who are visiting me from Teen Sideshow, NO! I haven't forgotten about it. Or any of my fics for that matter! I'm just finding that the chapters are a little more challenging for me to get out than usual, but don't worry... I've not abandoned any of them._**

 ** _Right. Now that's out of the way-I've got a new story idea. This one is gonna be more closely following the Teen Wolf plotline than my other stories have done in the past, so... If that's your thing, hooray! If I get five reviews on this, I'll post the first chapter. This was just the preface. I wanted to go ahead and show you guys her backstory a bit, or at least the most important piece of it, because it'll make the chapters to come easier for you to understand and easier to write. I have the first chapter finished, I just need to know whether this seems interesting to you guys... :) It's obviously an OC story so... Let me know your thoughts! I'll answer all your questions when I post the next chapter._**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _Present Day_

The building loomed overhead. I looked up at it with resigned resentment, clenching my jaw slightly and lifting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder as I took a deep breath and shook my hands out.

"Get a grip, Simone," I muttered. Usually, I was able to traipse the halls of this place without a problem. But it was different now. Everything's different. I also used to have a best friend to lean on—my family, my cousin. I missed her desperately, and pain welled up hot and fast in my chest, just like I had drawn a blade across my heart and blood beaded up through the wound. I flexed my fingers and nearly threw a punch as someone's hand latched onto my shoulder.

"How's it feel?" Said Chase, a cocky junior who liked to feel me up occasionally at his house parties.

 _Like I'm drowning._ "Feels like home," I confidently grinned, looping my arm behind his back at the same moment his hand slid around my shoulders. We walked like that, arms around each other, as he tugged me in closer and smiled lazily, like a cat, as we strolled. He throws the wildest parties, and I liked him because he didn't usually pry into my past. But I wasn't picky these days.

"Well, just let me know if anyone is giving you trouble this semester, okay?" He patronizingly instructed me as we stepped onto the sidewalk and merged with the stream of teenagers.

"Chase," I scrunched my face up and shook my head. "That's sweet. Really. But I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know," He smirks, tugging me even closer. I looked away from his face and focused on the green plaid backpack of the girl in front of us, clenching my jaw. "You can _definitely_ handle yourself. It's why I like you," His fingertips swept slightly across my collarbone, and I quelled the urge to snap one of those fingers in half. I wasn't in the mood today. "But I just want to let you know you're not alone."

"That's really great of you," I say dryly. My sarcasm went unnoticed as he swelled with pride.

"It is, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "God, Chase, you're incorrigible." Is what I said. What I _meant_ is: Holy shit, Chase. You're so full of yourself, it's disgusting. Get away from me.

"Mona," called a feminine voice from behind us. There's one girl who is still allowed to call me that, and I involuntarily stiffened from the toes up as it registered that apparently she would start in on me early today. Chase's arm dropped from my shoulder as he turned to leer at Lydia Martin, in her green shirt that tied at the waist and her high waisted floral skirt, the toe of her pink heels tapping passive-aggressively. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, though the question was now directed at Chase, not me.

I raised an eyebrow and silently took enjoyment out of watching Chase scramble with finding what to say. "I was just going to invite Simone here to a party—"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" She snapped, completely uninterested in whatever his intentions actually were to talk to me.

He frowned, unconsciously stepping away from me with an uncomfortable lift of his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, so what—"

"So maybe you should stop petting my friend's ass," She seethed, latching onto my wrist and dragging me to stand by her side, which I let her do as I peered back at Chase with hidden amusement. He looked to me, as if expecting me to stand up to Lydia, but I only stood beside her and offered him a weak smile of apology.

"…Hint taken." He finally said. "You can forget the party," He added bitterly, shoulder checking me on his way past.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that'll keep her up at night. Missing out on another raving time at the trailer park," Lydia's icy voice whipped out at him as he stalked away from us, a cloud of anger now following over his head. I sighed and licked my lips.

"Aaand, there's another bridge burned. Tell me, how does it feel? Ruining lives?" I crossed my arms and cocked my hips. "Is it satisfying?"

"Don't be ungrateful," Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder as her eyes flickered over my outfit. "It's a full time job, watching over you, and I don't expect to get paid with your attitude."

"Good," I smartly replied, tilting my head. "Then we're agreed. That's the last time you do that."

"Only if you'll stop throwing your life away!" She stomped her foot and her voice rose even higher, which tells me that there's no turning back now. She's on a tangent. There's no way to stop it, you can only ride it out from here. "You're the smartest girl I know, Simone," She continued, taking me aback. The fact that _Lydia Martin_ just said that to me adds a whole new dimension to what she just said. "Which is why I can't seem to understand why you're acting so stupid!"

"How am I acting stupid!?" My voice rose with my anger, and we were drawing a bit of a crowd at this point, a fact which we both managed to beautifully ignore. "Because I'm _living_? Because I'm being a teenager? Because I'm being _normal_ for once in my life—acting like the reckless teenager that we have _all_ missed out on being?"

"Normal," She laughed— _laughed_. It made me angry enough to want to claw her eyes out, as the smile on her pretty face looked down at me from way up on her throne, blinding me like the sun and almost causing my eyes to water. I wanted to scratch it from her face. "We can never be _normal_ , Mona!"

" _Don't_ —" I threw my finger up in her face, wiping the smirk from her lips as I physically forced myself to take a deep breath before continuing. "Call me that. _Ever_. And don't think that just because you were her best friend that that means something to me, because it doesn't. It didn't then, and it doesn't now! It doesn't grant you the right to try and force my hands off the wheel so you can steer me in the direction you think I need to be going. It's _my_ life, Lydia, and if I want to fuck it up, it's none of your business!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles Stilinski forced his way between the two of us moments before the ticking bomb that is Lydia Martin exploded, placing a heavy, placating hand on her shoulder as he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows sarcastically at me. "What a stunning argument from you, Simone, really. That's a healthy view on life." My eyes narrowed, but he continued as if he didn't notice. "Come on, now, girls," He shook his head. "It's a new day. It's a new beginning. Let's just let the past stay in the past, huh? I'm sure there's a cheesy motivational phrase somewhere in this speech I'm giving, I'm just a little flustered to think of it at the moment," His mole-dotted face flashed between the two of us. "Okay? Alright? You're both mature, capable people. You can work through this. We're okay. We're all good here."

"Alright," I snapped, batting his hand off me. "Whatever. We're good." I didn't spare Lydia a second glance, despite the guilt that did tug at my heart, and came up short upon seeing the face that I actively tried to avoid these days.

Scott McCall. He looked at me like I struck him across the face, the physical embodiment of the reaction that I felt once I saw him, too. I was just a little better at hiding it. Scott and I grew pretty close while he dated my cousin. I know he loved her with all he had, through everything, and I would venture to say that he was even one of my best friends for a period there.

It only hurts to see him now. I can never gather the courage to talk to him directly though, although the reason for my trepidation always eluded me.

"Ah," I winced. I looked down at my feet as his sad eyes watched me. He's been avoiding me, too, ever since… And it's been a while. I know that Scott is a good guy; I know it's slightly out of character for him, but I also know that Allison always looked more like a sister to me than a cousin. It seems that anyone who loved Allison has trouble looking me in the eye now. Hell, I have trouble looking myself in the mirror, so I can't blame them a bit. It's been a while since I've talked to someone while looking them in the eye. Yet another strange side effect of my ongoing grief.

It seems like all I do is lose the people I care about, and not just to death. As I look at Scott, I know I've lost him, too, and that hurts more than it would've if he'd died.

Without a word, I stepped around them and continued past to finally enter the school. I felt the stares of my friends behind me, and everything in me was screaming to turn around and run back to them. But that would hurt too much. I was still too far gone, and the further I grew from them, the harder I knew it would be to reestablish that connection. But still, I kept walking. It's hard to convince myself to turn back to them when I know they're better off without me in the long run.

* * *

I can't lie. I'm worried. It's why I find myself at lacrosse tryouts. I've heard rumors of an exceptionally excellent freshman trying out for the team, and after what Scott has been through… if he's anything like me, which I _know_ he is, then he's been having a hard time acting like himself lately. I know he's been distracted, because even though I might not directly interact with my group as much as I used to, it certainly doesn't mean I no longer care for them. Quite the opposite. I _ache,_ I miss them so much, but it seems like I just can't find the right words to say… and they've been too wrapped up in their own stuff to realize it. Which, is fine.

Still, I worry. I made a promise to Allison that I would watch over him, over all of them for her. That I would make sure they're okay. A promise that I fully intend to keep, in spite of the new lifestyle I've adopted.

I shift in my spot on the metal bleachers, waving at the group of my 'friends' who were currently trying to flag me down. I held up a finger, trying to tell them to give me a minute, and they looked confused but settled down. Still, they threw me judgmental glances every now and then. But it didn't actually hurt me, because if I'm honest with myself I know they don't actually care about me. And I don't actually care about them.

I turned my attention to the entrance of the field, where Scott and Stiles were about to step through.

"Scott, relax. You got your grades up, right? So you have nothing to worry about! We have like, a million things to worry about, but our spots on the team aren't one of them, okay?" Stiles had his bag slung over his shoulder, and it bobbed against his leg as he walked and talked with his hands constantly moving through the air. As per usual.

I felt a tug at my heart as I took in Scott's anxious voice, seeing the way his shoulders were slumped slightly as he responded to Stiles. "Sure, I got my grades up, but that doesn't mean I'm guaranteed a spot on the team! Coach specifically said that all the spots on the team were open. And have you heard all the rumors about a new kid? He's supposed to be so good, people are already talking about him being the captain!"

"What?" Stiles frowned. "Scott, no. Don't be ridiculous. Everyone at Beacon Hills knows you're the captain. You're like, a legend." I raised my eyebrows that intensely high praise that just poured from Stiles' mouth. Scott shifted and grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, ever the adorably humble hero. It was quite the compliment, and perhaps it was a little… over projected. High school sports have always been overly glorified in my opinion, but I knew how it good it made the players feel when they had a stand full of fans screaming their names, and I know that Scott has had a healthy dose of fanfare. So I guess I can understand where they're coming from. "Seriously… But we have bigger things to worry about. Did you tell Argent yet?"

I perked up and leaned against the metal railing of the bleachers, poking my face down so that I could see them better where they stood on the walkway to the field. "Tell me what?" I chirped, before they could continue. They boys whipped around like I had fired a gun at them, not eavesdropped on their conversation, and guilt sang from their faces. It only served to make me more curious, so I stood up and quickly hopped over the railing, plopping on the ground in front of them. They exchanged desperate, panicky faces, both at a loss. "Uh oh," I smirked, focusing on Stiles. "I know that look. Don't even try to lie, you're totally busted, guys."

"Lie?" Stiles snorted with too much amusement to be believable. "We wouldn't! And we aren't! And it's not! And… What are you even talking about? We told you already."

Scott's jaw dropped. It was enough to tell me that _that_ was a blatant lie, too. Stiles masked a wince at his friend's obviously suckish lying skills. "I think you two need to communicate better." I smugly crossed my arms. "It's getting hard for _me_ to keep your lies straight."

Scott sighed and they held a silent conversation that consisted of meaningful looks, clueless shrugs, and mouths popping open and closed. "Maybe… maybe this is a conversation for another time." Scott said, finally speaking right at me. And I mean _right_ at me. He even looked me in the face, his eyes grave and his crooked jaw tight. It made me almost hesitate to pry the truth from them.

Almost.

"Wait, Scott," Stiles put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "She's Simone Argent." Scott and I both looked at him with scrunched, narrowed gazes of confusion and annoyance. _Obviously._ "I mean, this effects her, too; she has the right to know."

"Another time." Scott reiterated, more forcefully this time. "I mean, really, Stiles? We're at lacrosse, on the lacrosse field." He paused, his eyes flickering to the field for a second. "At _school._ " Stiles seemed to understand what he was saying, but still seemed hesitant. "In _public_."

"Okay, okay!" I waved them off. "Another time. Geez… you kids, you're so full of deep, dark revelations. It's exhausting." They both visibly sagged with relief that I appeared to be letting them off the hook. I punched them both in the shoulders. "It's fine, tell me later."

The whistle blew, signaling the beginning of tryouts. We all swiveled to look as Garret dug his heels into the grass a bit, standing at the head of a small group of lacrosse players gathered some distance in front of the goal. He nodded at a fellow player, one I knew to be a senior but could not for the life of me recall his name (he had a bushy black ponytail).

And then it began. Garret, in his usual athletic prowess fashion, used his lacrosse stick like it was an extension of his arm, effortlessly scooping a ball out of the little pile pooled around his feet and hurling it toward the goal, where another player waited inside.

I knew most of the players well. I also knew there would be a few freshmen, and it was always amusing to me when rookies failed miserably in competitive things—like sports, for example. It was part of the reason I didn't mind attending the tryouts in the first place; one of the perks to keeping Allison's promise. Free entertainment.

But the biggest reward of all has got to be the fact that Beacon Hills High has the most attractive boys in attendance I've ever seen. Anywhere, ever. And I've lived out of the country for a spell, in Canada. It's where I'm from. So, not that that has much to do with seeing a variety of hot boys, I'm just saying, I've been around. Nowhere else has the kind of gene pools that the families in Beacon Hills seems to be blessed with. It must be something in the water, I dunno. Or maybe it's the simple fact that a small portion of them have superhuman qualities, and good looks go along with that.

I don't dwell on it. I don't question it.

This particular rookie was… enthralling. Immediately, I feel the rug pulled out from under me as this 'rookie' raises his lacrosse stick half a foot, like he knew exactly where the ball would land (and he probably did) and effortlessly caught it.

 _Not_ how I saw this going in my head, and my jaw dropped as Garret and ponytail worked their magic and mechanically launched ball after ball at him, in random spots—never the same place twice, and this kid just plucked them from the air like they were moving in slow motion.

" _What_ ," Stiles squeaked behind me. "Who—how?" The whistle blew again, signaling the end of that tryout. Probably mostly because Garret and ponytail had run out of balls to fling at him—dirty thoughts, dirty, dirty thoughts—

My eyebrows rose as I took in the lacrosse balls lying around him, and he confidently, and probably a tad bit smugly (understatement) lifted the helmet from his head. I was only further impressed to see his head full of dirty blonde, short hair that was spiked a bit with sweat, and his chiseled jaw. His eyes were blue enough for me to make out their cerulean color from across the field, and I noted that his front teeth were slightly crooked as he grinned, which managed to knock his attraction back down to the human level. And that played right into my wheelhouse.

I tried not to drool too much as Garret clapped the new kid on the shoulder and actually paid him a compliment—which, given what just happened, isn't surprising, but given that it's Garret, sort of is surprising. "Nice, Liam. You might just be the first freshman captain." The new guy— _Liam—_ beamed at him and proceeded to do that jock thing where he nods coolly at the ponytail guy and taps the end of his lacrosse stick with his in a manly fashion… it was all really very impressive. Note my sarcasm.

Still, I can't deny that I'm impressed, and attracted to him. I might have loads of criticizing comments to make about lacrosse and athletic behavior in general, but guess what? I'm here, aren't I? And I think that says more than I ever could. It's kind of like how a lot of people talk shit about Taylor Swift, but then when her songs come on they're belting it out with everyone else. You can talk all the shit you want, but you're singing along, so who's really winning here?...

"There's no way he's human." Stiles said, and for a moment I laughed, misinterpreting him. And then I realized he was being one hundred percent sincere. My smile dropped and I reconsidered his words, my mind flashing back to how quickly Liam was able to catch the balls. How effortless he made it look.

If I'm honest, it's exactly how Allison described Scott looking not so long ago. I wasn't here to witness it myself, since last year was my first, but from what she describes, he made it look pretty effortless, too. It didn't matter how Jackson threw the balls at him: erratically or just really fast, he caught it every time.

And now, here's Liam, doing the same thing Scott did years ago. How are we not supposed to reach the same conclusion, given everything we know now? It doesn't seem out of the realm of possibilities. But I was raised a hunter. I went through the same training Allison did, the same blood runs through my veins, and something about Liam just doesn't scream werewolf to me. I said as much to them, cautiously, and was immediately met with a snort from Stiles.

"You're just saying that because you think he's hot!" He cried, and I scoffed, crossing my arms and trying to play it off.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stilinski," I haughtily pointed my nose up at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ya got a little drool there, Simone," He gestured to his chin and I scowled at him.

But before I could comment, Scott broke in. "Simone," He started, grabbing all of my attention as he addressed me directly for the second time today. I still couldn't muster the courage to look in his eyes as he spoke, and it seemed the feeling was mutual as he shifted slightly. "Do you honestly believe he's human? After what we just saw? You don't think there's the slightest chance that he's—" Scott broke off and threw me a meaningful look.

I sighed at how obvious he was being, at how bad he _still_ seems to be at hiding things, and wondered—not for the first time—how this guy has kept his secret for so long.

"I guess…" I paused, glancing back over at where Liam was. He was heading towards the locker room and laughing confidently with some of the other players, his strong shoulders back and his chest puffing out as they continued to praise him and build him up. I looked back to Scott and Stiles. "You make a good point. I can't lie."

Stiles threw a hand out, "Thank you," He breathed. "And now, this _jerk_ is going to sweep in and try to steal your spot as captain on the team!"

"Hey, stop that!" I scolded. I flipped through what little sports knowledge I had, trying to think of the best thing to say to motivate them. "Just, go show your mettle, or whatever." They gave me identical looks screaming _wtf_. "What?" I uncomfortably shifted. "I—I dunno! I'm not sporty! I don't know how to do this! Don't break a leg, ah," I quickly reached out to smack both of their butts, and they hopped away from me, batting at my hands with their eyes bulging out. "Go get 'em, tiger!" I cheered with a feigned-manly voice, pumping my fist in the air. "Get in there!"

They seemed torn between laughing and shuddering with disgust as they decided not to comment at all, not even trying to offer me relief for that majorly awkward social interaction that I just _knew_ I had gotten wrong. Maybe that's only okay for the coaches to do…

"Ya think?" Finstock said from beside me.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" I frowned, and he scoffed and shook his head as if he was disappointed in me. "Hey, listen," I waved to him before he could turn away. "I know that new guy is really good, but…" He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for me to make a point. I hesitated, wondering if I really had to ask.

"Come on, Simone," He grunted in his scratchy voice, his black eyebrows raised impatiently. I was one of the only students of his that he didn't call by last name. I think it's a habit from when Allison and I were still attached at the hip. He couldn't call us by our last names, we would both respond, so he got used to calling us by our actual names. But even though he called me by my first name, he still managed to make it sound like it was an insult. "I don't got all day! I got a practice to finish here, my time is money!"

"I—I guess I'm just saying… Scott is the team captain. Right?" He blinked at me. "I mean, it's his junior year! That guy is a freshman! Of course he's the captain!"

Finstock shrugged at me, his arms flapping out as he waved his clipboard at me as if he could clear my words from the air, they were so ridiculous, and he began to back away from me. "What's age got to do with it? All positions are open."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he turned his back on me, and I sighed pathetically after him.

Sorry, Allison. I'm trying.

* * *

 _ **Alright, so I lied. This story has actually not gotten a review yet at all! But... I'm posting the first chapter anyway, because I realized maybe the best introduction to the story, and they best way to get you guys really wanting more would be to introduce you to the character and have her interacting with the other characters. Prefaces aren't really much to go off of.**_

 _ **So NOW you can let me know what you think XD Hahah...**_

 _ **Also, if there's anyone out there willing to discuss ideas for the story with me, I wouldn't object...**_


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So we're good?" Brian asked, as I spun the combination into my locker. My fingers were rougher than they should've been as I tried to pop the lock open, but apparently I put in the wrong combination, because it didn't budge.

Frustration welled up inside me and made my voice tight as I ground out, "Sure, Brian. We're good." I honestly just wanted him to go away. I set about spinning the combination into my locker again.

He lifted the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder as he watched me warily. "Are… you sure? Because you don't sound sure."

I heaved a heavy sigh and pulled up on the lock, but it still wasn't working. "Ugh! Come _on!?_ I have a final I missed last semester that I need to make up," I slammed the heel of my hand into my locker and attracted a few stares, and Brian took a minute step back as I continued to wail on my locker. "And I need my _stupid_ study guide or else I'm definitely going to fail it, which is _just_ what I need right now—I don't have _time_ for this piece of shit lock!—"

"Um, Simone… that's because you're putting in the wrong combination…" Brian held up a slightly hesitant finger, watching me from a distance as if I was about to punch the heel of my hand into his nose and not the locker. I turned to him, seething, breathing fire on him.

"What?" I said, my voice thinner than my patience. "What are you talking about?"

"You're putting in the wrong combination." He said again, and reached down to start spinning a new combination into the lock. "It's 20-5-45, not 10-36-2."

I frowned and looked down as he popped my locker open. "Oh." He raised his eyebrows at me as I cleared my throat and audibly forced my voice to a sane level. "It… must've been an old combination. I just forgot." I said, unable to look him in the eye. I definitely didn't tell him it was Allison's.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked, holding my locker open for me. I set my jaw and barely reined myself in from snapping at him.

"We're totally fine, Brian." I ignored him as he muttered that that wasn't what he asked, and continued on as if I hadn't heard him, "Am I upset that you didn't want to have a memorial for Allison? Yes. I needed a friend that day, Brian, I really needed you to step up, but—" I broke off and looked up into his regretful brown eyes. "It's in the past now. What's done is done. Okay? So you can forget about it, because I already have."

He seemed to want to say more, his eyes tortured as they watched me digging through my locker for my study guide. I didn't offer him any semblance of relief as he grappled for what to say to me, obviously at a loss for words, and I knew just as well as he did that no matter what he said to defend himself or justify what he did, he would come out looking like an ass. Because the truth is, he was the only one I wanted at my side. He knows it as well as I do, and he blew me off. Why? I have no idea, but that's really not important, is it? Who does that? Who does something like that and then expects everything to be okay? It's not okay. We're not okay. And we both know it. But I'm not going to fight him over it.

That's what's _really_ being said here. Yet another friendship of mine is crashing and burning, going down in a huge fiery ball of pain, and once again, I'm left standing in the aftermath with smoke burning my eyes. But that's the way it goes. Life goes on, with or without you. I learned that lesson long ago—the hard way.

"Okay." He finally said, though he sounded anything _but_ okay, and his eyes practically screamed at me to say something. But I couldn't even look at him as I continued to furiously dig for the stupid study guide, which was nowhere to be found, by the way—and he clenched his jaw before finally nodding once and walking away.

Once he had finally gone, I sank to my heels and put my head in my hands. My fingers tangled into my hair and I took a few steadying breaths, willing the pain in my heart to stop. But of course it didn't, it wouldn't, so I swallowed the pain and continued to dig through the bottom of my locker.

The bell rang, signaling that I had a minute to get to class, and I growled under my breath and rocketed to my feet, slamming my locker shut.

"Simone," I jumped slightly in surprise as Stiles was merely inches away from me for the second time today. My hand flew to my heart as I glared at him.

"What now?" I groaned, turning on my heel to walk away before he had the chance to answer.

"Wait! We need you." He called, dodging students to try and catch up to me.

"For what?" My nose scrunched slightly as I paused to look back at him with a confused face, and he finally caught up to me.

"Liam isn't—we don't trust him. We confronted him in the locker room. Let me tell you, Simone, he's a cocky little—but that's not the important part. He's a _transfer_ ," He leveled somber eyes at me. "From Devenfort Prep." He said grimly, as if this was the worst thing in the universe and explained everything.

"Devenfort?" I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to give him a surprised look. He nodded with his lips forming a tight line, and I raised my eyebrows. "Well, tell ya what—I'll get the pyre ready, you get the robes, and we'll just go ahead and crucify him today!" Stiles's face changed as my heavy sarcasm finally registered. He tilted his head back and groaned. "No, no! You're right." I started down the hall again. "Devenfort…" I mused. "More like Devil's fort, am I right? Gosh, I should've seen it coming, really! He can't be trusted, you're right,"

"Alright, alright," Stiles cut in bitterly. "Would you just listen to me?"

I had nearly reached my class, but it occurred to me that this was very important to Stiles, and that's the _only_ reason I stopped. I turned to give him my full attention. "Yeah, okay. Make it quick, though, I've gotta take one of my make up finals."

Sympathy, and something that strangely resembled guilt flickered through his face. But just as soon as it had appeared, he swept it from his features, and focused on the task at hand. It was so fast that I had to wonder if it had happened at all. "Okay. This kid is way too good, alright? You saw him. You know what I mean. And he—" He broke off and looked suspiciously around the hall, leaning in to whisper (though if Liam is around and he _is_ a werewolf, like they suspect, he'd be able to hear us anyways. So I'm not sure what he was hoping to accomplish, but whatever) "He _lied_ to us when we asked him why he came here. I know it. He's hiding something. He says he's a transfer, but even Scott thinks he was expelled!"

I frowned and contemplated his words. He was expelled? For what? This could spell bad things for Beacon Hills, especially since he's climbing his way to the top of the social pyramid without even breaking a sweat, and is basically single-handedly taking over the lacrosse team. And it was just tryouts. I absentmindedly rubbed the scar on my neck and shifted on my feet.

"Okay…" I watched Stiles watching me, apparently waiting for something. I glanced away and shrugged my shoulders. "What? I don't know what you want me to say here, Stiles! Yes, it's sketchy. Yeah, he's probably hiding something—who isn't? And what are you telling me for, anyways?" Hurt and confusion flickered across Stiles' face, because there was once a time when I used to sniff around the group and practically _beg_ for details about what was going on. There was a time when I would've jumped at the chance to get the inside scoop like this. But things are different now, and it's never been clearer as we stared at each other, practically seeing each other for the first time.

Stiles leaned back and his face closed off. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, squaring his shoulders. "I was going to ask you to try and find out what you could on the guy. You peer mentor his biology class, right?"

I sighed heavily and looked around. "Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "So?"

"So, all I'm asking you to do is your job! Mentor him," Stiles said, though we both knew that he was asking me to do much more than mentor him. He wants me to try and squeeze information out of him. He's tasking me to go darkside, to be a mole, to gather intel, to try and figure out what he's all about.

I looked down at my feet, hesitating. Stiles bobbed impatiently in his spot, hovering around me until I finally rubbed at my neck again and nodded my head. He practically shot off like a rocket, barely containing his triumphant fist pump. "Okay. Alright," I said as he continued to buzz around me. "I'll let you know what I find out, okay?"

"I knew we could count on you!" He exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes. I opened my mouth to reply, but the bell rang, and I felt my eyes bulge. Stiles and I stared at each other for half a beat as it registered that we were both officially late to class, and we both took off at the same time without another word, rushing in the direction of our respective classes.

* * *

Having convinced the teacher to let me take the make up test in the library, I sat there and tapped my pencil as I stared down at the chemical formula on the sheet. It might as well have been written in Greek.

Well, no, scratch that. If it was written in Greek, I'd still be able to read it—I took two classes last year as an elective, and we've studied the roots in all my English classes—but for some reason, the information just isn't coming to mind. It's like I can't think past all the thoughts flying around in my head. I can't concentrate anymore, and it's making me itch from the inside out. I flex my fingers and shift in my seat, mouthing the formula out loud.

"Um, could you keep it down?" Said a sweet voice behind me. I turned and did a double take when I saw the man in question—Liam… um, Liam. I don't know his last name yet, so—anyway, he was hunched over an English book that all freshman are eventually forced to read from—class issued textbooks that are heavier than a dead body, and had his fists clenched tightly. I raised my eyebrows at him. "I'm just—I'm trying to read this before next period." It once again occurred to me how attractive the guy was, with his blonde hair and earnest blue eyes. They spoke what his mouth couldn't, and right now they were torn between leaving and giving up, and throwing that book at the wall. "It's just that—I didn't get the chance to last night, and this is my free period, but it's basically already over, I mean I only have forty minutes left to read this—this _crap_ , and try to understand it before I get to class because I didn't have the time last night because I was practicing for lacrosse tryouts today all last night, so now I'm trying to finish it, but I can't concentrate because you keep saying letters and numbers out loud and a whole lot of crap I can't understand either," His fists tightened more and more as he went on, slowly closing in on himself as he babbled, and I wanted to reach over and clamp a hand over his mouth. "And to be honest I can only handle one thing I don't understand at a time, so if you could just—" he let out a fast breath, his nostrils flaring as he cut me a harsh, but altogether overwhelmed look as he finished, "keep it down."

My eyebrows were lost somewhere in my hair as I gawked at him, my mouth opened slightly. My pencil had frozen in the rhythm I had been furiously tapping out, unaware that I wasn't alone in this most secluded part of the library. I closed it suddenly and cleared my throat. "Uh—yeah, yeah, sorry. I didn't know—I thought I was alone. My bad." I couldn't stop what Stiles had told me from flying through my mind, and I set my pencil down on my unfinished chemistry final, the bubbles of my answer sheet only partly filled out. Liam clenched his jaw and seemed unable to continue looking me in the face, apparently embarrassed by his outburst and overly informative explanation, but still determined to finish reading the story as he nodded tightly and settled back into the book with a heavy sigh of frustration.

I propped my chin in my hand and watched as he tangled his hand into his hair and frowned, gripping the hard corner of the book so tightly, it bent and the cardboard backing to the cover cracked as he broke it. He didn't even notice as he continued to read, and I felt my interest in the guy pique even more as I unconsciously scooted closer.

He was a table over, sitting opposite me, facing away from the stacks behind him. I had been facing the same way, but now I'm basically straddling my chair as I focus entirely on him while he struggles to read. I scoot my chair even closer as I crane my neck to try and catch a glimpse of what he's reading.

I catch sight of a poem, and like that, I'm a goner. Poetry is sort of my passion. Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm speaking again. "It's Liam, right?"

It's like I've broken his concentration, but I don't have to be a genius to know that he wasn't absorbing any of what he just read. He let out a tight sigh through his nose and looked up with his muscles so strained, they looked like a light breeze would snap them in half.

"Uh—" He said, his eyes flickering over me. His eyebrows were knit together as he replied. "Yeah…"

"I saw you at tryouts," I begin, and as soon as the words left my mouth, he surprised me. I expected him to puff his chest out. I expected him to swell with pride and boast over his expectation to make captain, especially given how Stiles had described him—but it didn't happen.

He remained with the exact same, lost, insecure expression he had on his face as he tried to read the poem he was assigned. "Oh, yeah, that." He said, his voice sounding unsure.

I raised an eyebrow. "There, there," I sarcastically said, raising the end of the words like a dry question. "Don't be too hard on yourself, I'm sure you made the team."

"No," He smiled in spite of himself. "I know I did well, that's not it… I just… I think some of the guys—" He looked down at the book and began to thumb through the pages. "I don't think they like me all that much. Kinda sucks all the glory out when your teammates can't stand you, ya know?"

He looked so dejected, I felt my heart tug for him. _I'm gonna kill them. I'll kill 'em,_ "Who? Are you joking? I saw Garret congratulating you! They practically carried you to the locker room on their shoulders, Liam, trust me. You'll be fine."

He sighed and nodded. "You're probably right." He said, though his heart wasn't in it. "Anyways, I don't even know your name—I don't know why I just told you that…"

A crooked smile tugged at my lips. "I asked. And my name's Simone."

His eyebrows shot up. "Simone Argent, Simone?"

My reputation precedes me. It was my turn to drop the smile. "Oh. It's just one Simone, actually. I don't know why everyone feels the need to tack another on there, I should start spreading the word…"

Amusement danced in his eyes. "I've heard of you." He admits, and I tilted my head and nodded, waiting for the rumors to come to life. "You're good friends with Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski!"

And just like that, my face scrunched up again. "That's what you've heard?"

He nodded vehemently, book forgotten. "Scott's the captain of the lacrosse team, of course I know who his friends are! I—" he broke off. "I'm doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Obsessing. It's what I do. If I'm worried about something, I obsess over it—"

"What about Scott and Stiles are you worried about?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

His face closed off like a gate slamming shut. He sat back, rigid in his seat, and cleared his throat. "Nothing." He said. His eyes screamed about when the pair of them interrogated him and figured out he had been lying about being expelled without him having to utter a word, like Stiles told me already. "I need to finish this."

He looked back down at the book, and his eyes proceeded to flicker back and forth as he tried to read the poetry. But I could tell he wasn't understanding a bit, because he kept rereading the same lines.

"Leaves of Grass." I state. He looks up at me again, more guarded than before.

"…You know it?"

Stiles prodded me in the shoulder (figuratively speaking, of course, he's across the school) and whispered to go on. He told me to mentor him, find out more, I was doing so well… I looked down at his book, glance back up at him, and look back at the chemistry final on my table. Stiles prods my shoulder again.

"Know it?" I said, swiping up my chemistry final and quickly settling into the seat across from Liam. I scoot my final to the side and point down at his book. He watched me the whole time, from the moment I swung my leg over my seat from where I had been straddling it, to the moment that I leaned forward and pointed down at the page on his book, his eyes watched my every move. "I _love_ it."

"Well, maybe you could try explaining it to me, because it's total gibberish." He shook his head and looked down as he read a few lines. "Of myself forever reproaching myself? What good amid these, O me, O life? … What is _that_?"

"The entire poem is—it's about Walt Whitman questioning why he's here on earth." He levels a dubious look at me, though I can tell I've caught his attention. "It's the recurring question—what does it all mean, what is our purpose, what's the point of it all?"

"Where does he say _that_?" Liam asks, shaking his head and squinting down at the pages.

"Okay," I scooted forward and slid his book so we could both see it. "Look here. He starts off with saying 'of the endless trains of the faithless'. So that's his way of referencing all the people in his life that have let down his expectations. Okay, I can certainly relate to that," I touch a hand to my chest, but I'm losing focus of teaching Liam. I'm more interested in talking about the poem now, as my excitement grows and I scoot forward in my seat to gush over the brilliance of it. "And then, he says 'of the cities fill'd with the foolish, meaning we're all clueless and make bad decisions. 'Of myself forever reproaching myself," I point down at a line. "Here in the parenthesis, he admits that no one is more foolish or faithless than he is. So he's saying he's no better than the rest of us. And the rest of the poem, he talks about wanting things to be better than they already are, always craving the light. No one is ever satisfied with what they have, and nothing ever turns out the way we want it to. But he goes on to say he's not alone, because everyone around him is fighting the same fight he is, and that's what connects us all. That's what we all have in common. We're all struggling with something; we're all fighting our own life. So what's the point? What's the point of it all? Why do we keep fighting?" I run a thumb over my mouth and shake my head slightly as I read the last line aloud. "'Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.'"

"…Wow." Liam said, pulling me from my reverie. I took in a deep breath and glanced up at him, looking back down at the poem every so often.

"Yeah." I smiled. "I know." He blinks at me, a funny expression on his face that makes me squirm slightly in my seat. "What?"

"I just—" He suddenly realizes he's been staring at me. "I never would've thought of it that way. I'm not any good with poetry—it's too metaphorical for me."

I couldn't help the broad grin that stretched across my face as I basically beamed at him. "That's okay, it's not for everyone," I say, and we're just staring at each other for a minute, and even my palms are tingling as I can't look away from the mesmerizing blue color of his eyes, and he seems to be just as taken aback by me… He's not what I expected. The guy I saw on the field, and the one sitting in front of me are two very different people. Or, at least, he left a different impression on me. I wasn't sure how to react to this.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "Do you understand his one about the drums? Because we had to read that one, too." He begins to flip through the pages, and I nod without thinking, trying to stomp the emotions in my chest down.

* * *

 ** _I love Liam's character. He's anxious but he's fierce... it's like, two total opposite character traits mixed together to make this beautiful person... I just fangirl so much over him! Anyways, there's a bit of his vulnerable side, because this is the period right after he's basically cornered by Scott and Stiles and he's probably paranoid because they figured him out so easily. Anyways, hopefully I did alright! First time I've written a scene with him, so if you could let me know what you think, I would really appreciate it! :)_**

 ** _And thank you for all the reviews!_**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

So, apparently I don't understand lacrosse as much as I thought I did. As in, at all.

"So _this_ is when they try out for the team?" I frowned, watching the boys as they gathered on the field.

"Yeah," Brian said from where he sat next to Fiona. I looked at the pair of them, Brian one bleacher above her, and Fiona nestled between his legs as she scrolled through her phone. She paused to smirk up at me.

"I can't believe you thought practice was tryouts." She snickered.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm sorry! Everyone was just taking it so seriously this morning…" I thought back to when I was talking to Liam in the library. I had specifically called it tryouts… _to his face._ He said nothing!

"Aren't you supposed to be, like, a genius?" Fiona continued, a smug sneer on her face. Everyone around us began to cackle like she had just said the funniest thing they'd heard all year. Humiliation colored my cheeks pink. I looked to Brian, his green eyes hesitant. He seemed just as unhappy as I was, and I waited for him to stick up for me.

"Come on, you guys." He finally said. "They're about to start. Look at Greenberg!"

"I can't believe he still goes here," Mused another lemming, this one's name I can't be bothered to remember. My chest was stinging too much. I felt the cold bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue, and I looked down to my flats as they continued to talk shit about Greenberg. "He was supposed to graduate!"

"Ha! Like that'll ever happen. When we're partying in college, he'll still be at BHHS, tying his shoes for lacrosse tryouts,"

"Is that what he's trying to do? It looks like he's digging in the grass,"

"No, you're both wrong. He's obviously—"

My mind wouldn't stop wandering back to the moment in the library when I was talking to Liam.

 _I saw you at tryouts,_ I had said to him, all confident and cavalier. Trying to be sly. Trying to be aloof.

 _Ugh._ I put my burning face in my hands, burying my mortification in them. Maybe I'll disappear. Maybe today will be the day the huge hole opens in the earth and swallows me whole… What I would give to be able to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich—I mean, how hard could that be, really?

The whistle blew, interrupting my mental pity-party. I looked up and scanned the field, spotting Scott and Stiles easily enough. They all took off, running laps around the field.

"Come on!" Coach Finstock roared. "You guys are pathetic! We'll be lucky if we make it past sectionals with the way you're fumbling across the field… Greenberg! Stop that!... I said stop it—Oh, my God—"

I felt the burn of eyes focusing on me, and peeked at Malia and Kira. Their hair flipped into their face, they looked away so fast. I knew they were talking about me now. I watched, read Kira's lips as she tried to subtly ask Malia if I was still looking.

Malia surreptitiously nodded her head and focused down on the open precalculus book in her lap. Math is easy, and I know she struggled with it. Part of me wanted to go down and help her, try to explain a few things. But I looked away from them, finally, and tried to focus on my new friends around me.

Brian was currently trying to catch a piece of popcorn in his open mouth, as one of his buds tried to toss it from the top of the bleachers. He dove to the side and nearly knocked Fiona off balance. She hissed at him and smacked his leg, and I looked back down to the field, rolling my eyes and gritting my teeth.

I clamped a hand over my mouth in an effort to keep from laughing as I watched Scott hold Stiles up when they finished running laps. It was only warm ups, and yet Stiles' hair was plastered to his forehead and his face contorted funnily as he gasped for breath. It seemed to cause him pain to breathe, and he was unable to hold himself up as he panted in Scott's grip. I read his lips as he spoke.

"What is he, like a werecheetah?" He bitterly quipped through his pants, gawking at someone sitting with where the rest of the team was stretching. I followed his gaze and my heart jumped into my throat as I saw he was talking about Liam.

While his teammates were either throwing up, hyperventilating, or stretching, Liam was pumping through some push ups. I was torn between the feeling that he was showing off and trying too hard (though, as Finstock beamed at him, I knew it was working) and trying to stamp the girly, warm, fuzzy feelings wreaking havoc in my stomach.

I don't wanna be this girl. I don't wanna be the girl who is absolutely smitten with a boy she barely knows, I've never been that girl before! I was appalled at how Allison described having acted when she first met Scott. I've been raised to see such behavior from women as a sign of weakness, in a family where the females are the strongest leaders around. We don't drool and swoon, we manipulate and we _win._ We're vicious, ruthless adversaries—

But I don't feel ruthless. I don't feel vicious, as my heart skips a beat when Liam leaps up from where he had been doing his pushups to start jogging in place.

 _I saw you at tryouts… I'm sure you made the team._ Embarrassment, barbed and venomous, pumped through my veins. I felt my face ignite like someone poured rubbing alcohol down it and lit a match against it, and at that same moment, Liam started to turn. He was still jogging, it was just in a circle now as he spun and tried to use his exercising as an excuse to scan the field.

I watched as he barely broke a sweat, his breathing controlled while he turned and caught sight of Finstock, who was currently boasting over him with Garret, telling the other players they should start trying to be more like Liam. His lips tugged into a crooked, cocky smile, and I felt as if the same hook that seemed to tug the corner of his mouth up pierced my heart and lifted it along with his smile.

I groaned to myself, covering my mouth in shame as my stupid speech in the library filtered through my mind again, and I nearly fell off the bleachers when Liam turned and his bright blue eyes landed directly on my face.

It was as if he already knew I was there. It occurred to me, then, that he probably _did_ already know. In which case, how long has he been watching me? As long as I've been watching him? Long enough to have seen my friends laughing at me? The whole time?

I was caught between the cool feeling of humiliation, and the stiflingly warm sensation that his eyes lit inside of me. I wanted to stomp down these bleachers and across the field so I could ask him why he didn't correct me. Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he say, _Oh, no. You didn't see me at tryouts, dumb ass, because that was just practice. You fucking creep. Why were you watching me, anyways? Good God. Get away from me._

It's what any sane person would have said. I bit my lip and looked down at my feet, sighing heavily, hating myself for being so stupid, and glanced back up at him as he bounced, still jogging in place. He grinned at me and—oh, my god. He nodded at me. He did the cool guy nod, the universally sexy hi, the one that has sent multiple girls swooning to the ground, and I almost did the lame 'look around and silently wonder if he's actually talking to me' move. But, I didn't. Thank God. I've humiliated myself enough today.

I swallowed my giddiness, but there was no hope of me biting back my smile. It was a real smile, one that stretched from ear to ear as I covered my mouth to try and hide it, my eyes glancing down at my flats as he continued to smirk at me. I looked back up at him, and he winked. Just when I couldn't take it anymore, the whistle blew, and he looked away.

I'm done.

I'm cooked.

I'm dead. Am I dead? Is this death? Is this what death feels like? Oh, my holy God. What in the actual fuck…

"What was that?" Brian's voice was laced with accusation. I struggled to slow my breathing as I tore my eyes from Liam and looked up at Brian. "Did you just have eye-sex with that kid?"

" _What_?" I exclaimed, and Fiona's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, my god! Cougar!" She nasily cried. "That kid is a freshman, Simone! He's practically still a baby."

I snapped. "Okay," I shot up to my feet and the group around me fell to a surprised hush. "First of all, nothing happened! I helped him with his English during class, and he was just—being nice!" Brian rolled his eyes and Fiona raised an unconvinced eyebrow. I ignored them as I continued, jabbing a finger down at Fiona. "Second of all, I'm probably the same age as he is! I skipped a grade, dumb ass." She blinked in shock.

"I didn't know that," Brian broke in.

"Yeah," I nodded, glancing from face to face as I continued on my tangent. "That's right. I guess that means I _am,_ like, a _genius_ , Fiona."

"Damn," Fiona raised an eyebrow at me, as I felt the pressure in my head slightly dissipate, along with my anger. "Okay. You're a baby, too. We get it…"

I whirled on my heel and stomped off. I cannot stand her for another second, and I ignored Brian as he chastised his girlfriend. I ignored them as they called my name. I ignored their confused shouts when I plopped myself down next to to Malia and Kira.

I was on the other side of Malia, who was snarling a lip at me in her signature, aggressive confusion, but it was Kira who spoke up first.

"…Um… Simone?" Her unassuming voice piped up. I turned to her with my eyebrows raised, watching as she exchanged an unsure glance with Malia.

"What?" I impatiently snapped. They exchanged another glance.

"…Nothing." Kira finally said, a small smile playing at her lips as she knowingly watched me. I ignored the small feeling of nostalgia tug at me. It did feel good to sit here with them. It felt like I had finally found my way back home, back where I belonged.

Kira turned back to tryouts, but Malia was still blatantly staring at me.

"What are you doing?" Malia bluntly asked.

"I'm watching tryouts." I mimicked her tone, and she frowned at me.

"No, you're sitting next to me." She pointed down at where I was sitting. "Does this mean you're back?"

"If I said yes, would that be…" I looked over at Kira for a moment before focusing on Malia. "Would that be okay?"

Malia looked at Kira, seemingly at a loss for words. Kira nodded with a smile on her face. "Of course it would, Simone."

I let out a relieved breath and settled into the seat next to them. Malia was still frowning at me. "Why wouldn't it be?" She asked.

I looked down at my lap and began to fiddle with the torn, frayed end of my jean shorts. "Well, I've sort of… I mean, ever since—" I ran a nervous hand down my tights, unable to get the words to come out. "I've been…" I glanced up at them briefly. "And, you know. So… I thought maybe."

They shook their heads at me, somehow able to follow what I was totally butchering trying to say, and I sagged slightly in relief. We all turned back to watch tryouts some more, watching as Scott continued to miss shot after shot.

"I owe Stiles twenty bucks." Malia suddenly admitted. Kira and I both looked at her, confused. She looked at me. "We were betting on how long it would take you to come back." She simply stated, and I felt my jaw drop.

"What?" I laughed.

"He had his money down for the beginning of the semester." She nodded, and took a deep breath. I grappled with how to respond, but before I could say anything, she continued. "I was hoping you would be able to hold out for at least two months," She shook her head.

"I—" My hazel eyes glanced over to Kira uncertainly, and she just bit back a smile. "I'm sorry?"

Malia shrugged. "It was my mistake." I continued to gawk at her, but before I could say anything, another metallic ping reverberated over the field as one of Scott's shots knocked into the frame of the goal, and one player ducked before it could hit him in the face.

"Isn't the captain of the team supposed to be… good?" Kira asked. Malia and I looked at her, and I frowned.

"He is good!" I defended, my protective streak of the boy rising up. "He's _great_ , actually. He's just…" I looked at Scott with a different view than most people. I knew that the loss of Allison had taken a toll on Scott, and I had a feeling that might translate to things he never would've expected. She was his anchor. She was the anchor that kept his feet on the ground, through everything he did, just like she was mine—and now she's gone. So, yeah. He's a little… rusty. "He's having an off day."

They raised their eyebrows at me, but chose to say nothing. I chewed thoughtfully on my lip as Scott continued to fail at tryouts miserably, being increasingly overshadowed by Liam.

I fall into a strange position here. I'm excited and surprised and smitten and enthralled by Liam, but I know that I should be suspicious of him. I know I should be like Stiles, untrusting, cynically critical—but I can't do it. I can't even bring myself to try because of the way he looked when he was telling me about some 'players on the team' (Scott and Stiles) not liking him. When in reality, they didn't trust him, because they thought he was some malicious supernatural creature who's plotting against them—and it wouldn't be the first time something like that's happened, so it's not unfounded and I can't bring myself to be truly angry at them for giving him the third degree and making him feel… ostracized. But by the same token, I just really wanna punch both of them in the mouths for putting that sad expression on Liam's face.

It's complicated.

Which is why I find myself torn between cheering for Liam and booing along with Malia when Scott and Stiles took him on for two-on-ones… and he dominated them.

Finstock blew the whistle. Stiles and Scott had been doing really well with the two-on-one runs, having no trouble keeping their teammates out of the goal and basically owning them all. It was good to see Scott redeem himself. I knew, and so did everyone else, that Liam would give them some trouble. But with the way things had been going for them, it could go either way.

Which is why it was so awkward when I rocketed to my feet next to Malia when Liam's ball sailed through the air and the beautiful _swish_ of ball hitting net resounded over the field. Liam had hopped over Stiles' tackle like it was nothing, ducked Scott's arms like he knew they would be there, and twirled like a god damn graceful, manly ballerina, rocketing the ball into the totally open net.

Triumph and giddiness surged through me, and I lurched to my feet, my arms thrown in the air. I let out a loud whoop at the same moment Malia angrily screamed, "Come on!"

Everyone on the field turned to look at us. I quickly masked my cheer into a fist pump that could be taken as either a celebration, or an angry exclamation. Liam's face scrunched in confusion, and so did Scott and Stiles'. They all gawked at me, and I awkwardly glanced over at Malia as she spouted about his score being _luck_ and demanding a redo. I looked back at Liam, seeing his confused frown. He had thought we were friends, that much was clear from the way he smiled at me before, and who could blame him? I basically gave him all the answers to his English homework. I probably made him look really smart.

And now I'm possibly booing him? No. I can't do it. As I look at the frown on his face, I can't do it.

"No, no, sweetheart," Finstock shook his head. "There are no redos here. This is a practice," And he turned around as if she was the most ridiculous person he'd ever encountered.

"Come on," I found myself shouting. Finstock froze upon hearing my voice, probably surprised to hear me step up. "It's a tryout! What's the harm in a redo? No matter who wins, you win, right?"

Liam was watching me. I winked at him, and Stiles and Scott both almost burst into flames at witnessing _that_. Liam's chest puffed out, though I could still see his hesitation, and Malia threw ten bucks into the mix, and before we knew it Liam was back in position to start again.

I lowered to the seat next to Malia and glanced sheepishly at the girls next to me. They gave me unreadable expressions. I shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" I said innocently, but before anything more could be said, Finstock blew the whistle.

Liam was off like a bullet. He rocketed across the field, kicking up dirt and grass in his wake. Stiles braced himself like a rock wall, ducking down and pushing forward, but Liam spun around him. It would've worked, too, had Scott not been waiting for him just around the other side. He was already squatting into a lower position than Liam's relatively small frame. He caught Liam in just the right way, with just enough force, that when he lifted himself, and Liam was still caught on him, he literally flipped Liam over his shoulder.

Liam sailed through the air, and before he hit the ground I was off the bleachers.

Dread, guilt, and anger sung in every corner of my body. Liam hit the ground with a sickening crunch, spurring me on, and I stumbled onto the grass of the field in a furious rush because I knew.

I knew Scott had tapped into his supernatural strength, I knew he was cheating, I knew he sabotaged it, I knew he rigged the game, and now Liam is hurt. And I'm _pissed_.

I sailed past Finstock as he screamed for the boys to get back, and my streaking past him seemed to kick him into gear. He followed distantly behind me as I skidded to a stop and began to smack Scott's shoulder relentlessly.

He tried to duck away, but I latched onto the metal caging of his helmet and tugged him down to my height.

Stiles has always teased me for my height, claiming that I was like a little Tasmanian devil when I'm angry.

Well, I'm angry. Scott's eyes were wide as Liam groaned on the ground, writhing and I stepped toe-to-toe with Scott, ignoring the murmurs around us as a small girl who's _definitely_ not on the team took the field by storm.

"What the fuck was that," I hissed, and Scott dropped his stick to put his gloved hands on my shoulders.

"I don't know, Simone," He started,

"The fuck you don't!" I managed through my anger, but before he or Stiles could say any more, I shoved him back and quickly raced to Liam's side. He was sitting back on his legs, which made me very nervous. "Don't move!" I exclaimed, the tone of my voice completely shifting from acidic to worried.

"I'm okay," He irrationally tried to insist. "I'm fine, it's okay," He broke off, frowning up at me in confusion as he tried to maneuver so he could stand. "Simone?"

"Liam, I could hear that all the way from the stands! You've gotta be broken somewhere," I put my hand on his shoulder and he shook his head as Finstock screeched at me not to touch him.

"No, I'm telling you. It's fine! I just fell, it's no big deal—"

"Liam," I cut in, pushing him by the chest so that he couldn't stand. I locked eyes with him, feeling his shocked, scared heart racing under my hand. "Slow down. Let us help you."

Stiles and Scott joined my side, as Liam blinked at me, his mouth open in a silent protest. I nodded at him and Scott and Stiles both hauled him up by his shoulders, taking all of his weight as he ground out screams of pain when one of his ankles dragged the ground.

He was a pretty short guy, I noticed (not for the first time), at least shorter than Scott and Stiles. This only meant good things, however, since they were able to pretty well keep his injured foot off the ground and completely take his weight off it.

I watched, my heart heavy with guilt and concern as he continued to growl through clenched teeth. If I hadn't insisted on Coach letting them have a redo, this never would've happened. It's not all my fault, I know that, but I did play a part in it, and for that I feel _very_ guilty.

Especially since it's quite obvious that he's _very, very_ human, and he's _very, very_ hurt. And it's our fault.

"We probably need to get him to the nurse," Stiles pointed out, and I frowned.

"The nurse?" I rose from where I had been watching on the ground, one of the players helping me to my feet. I didn't even spare him a second glance as I patted his arm and focused on Stiles. "No, how about the _hospital,_ Stiles!"

"Alright!" He snapped. "Let's just get to my jeep, then,"

"No! You guys need to get to the nurse!" Finstock screeched, and I resisted the urge to punch him in the throat, flexing my fingers.

"Coach," Scott started, rearing up to protest. I put my hand out.

"No, no," I nodded at Finstock. "He's right. We should get a professional opinion. Could just be a sprain,"

"But you said—" Stiles started.

"I was panicking!" I cut in, and Finstock motioned violently for us to get a move on.

We started off the field, and once we had gotten some distance away from the Coach, I asked Stiles for his keys.

"I knew you were bluffing," He shook his head as he jerked his chin down. "They're in my right pocket."

I skipped quickly over to him and jammed my fingers down his pocket, pulling out his wallet and his key ring.

I opened his wallet and fished out twenty dollars.

"Hey!" He cried. "I said my keys! What the hell are you doing?!"

Liam somehow managed to cut out a snicker through his pain as I flipped Stiles' wallet closed and dangled the twenty in front of his face. "You know what this is for," I cut in. Stiles and Scott glanced at each other, a crooked grin on Scotts face. "Yeah. I talked to Malia. I know about the bet!"

"….Oh," Stiles finally said, looking away from Scott. "Does this mean—"

"Yeah, yeah," I cut in as they gently lowered Liam down the steps towards the parking lot.

"Guys, you don't have to do this," He babbles. "It's fine, just take me to the nurse—"

"Don't you try to fight us on this," I pointed a finger at him and he clamped his mouth shut, still panting in pain. "We're gonna get you to the damn hospital."

And I didn't wait to hear a response as I strode forward to open the door of the jeep. I leaned in as the boys bickered with each other about something, looking at the seating arrangement and wondering how we would do this.

First of all, there's only a passenger door. No back door. And if Liam would be comfortable, he would need to stretch his legs out. Honestly, the nurse wasn't a bad option. At least then he'd be able to ride in an ambulance, because we all know that it's broken. Either way, he needs a doctor, not a school nurse, and he shouldn't have to wait for the ambulance. Not when we have a perfectly—well, more or less 'perfectly'—functioning vehicle at our disposal.

I suppose we could take my car…

I sat up in shock at my stupidity. How could I have forgotten? I've got a car now! It was Allison's, sure, but now it's all mine! And it totally has a back seat!

I slammed the door of the jeep shut and turned back to the boys.

"Change of plans." I said, and they all frowned at me.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Slowly," I instructed as I held the backseat door open for the boys while they turned, positioning Liam so he could sit on the seat. " _Slowly_ … Be gentle!" I commanded, as Liam lowered to the seat, shaking his head slightly.

"They're _fine,"_ He told me, and I scoffed.

"You don't have to make excuses for them, Liam," I said to him, though I was leveling a look directly at Scott and Stiles.

"I'm not," He said weakly, even though none of us were looking at him.

I barreled on as if he hadn't spoken. "It's our fault you're like this."

"Hey!" Stiles finally snapped. "No one _forced_ him to go that second time, okay!"

"Oh, yeah right," I rolled my eyes. "Like he had a choice. What was he gonna do? Tell Coach Finstock _no_? How do you see that going?"

"It was _practice,_ Simone! He already won _once._ There was nothing at stake! It's not like we were in a game!" He continued, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke.

"It's not like we were in a game," I mocked, very maturely, and Scott waved a hand between the two of us—his symbolic white flag.

"Okay, okay," He interrupted, as Stiles gave me the stank eye. "There's plenty of blame to go around, alright?" I sneered at Stiles, and looked back down at Liam with concern when he scooted himself back and let out a hiss of pain. "You just focus on getting him to the hospital."

"Me?" I asked, all childish bickering leaving my voice. "You mean we…"

"No," Scott sheepishly said. "I have to speak to Kira."

"Oh, what could _possibly_ be so important?" I snapped. Scott stared at me and I waited for him to continue, raising my eyebrows and bobbing my head as if to ask him to go on. He just raised his eyebrows back at me, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, and I cut out a sharp sigh, rolling my eyes. "You know what?" I stepped away from the door and gave it a rough pat. "Never mind. Go. We've got this, right, Stiles?" I started to back up, grateful that I at least had one of my friends at my back.

"Um…" Stiles sheepishly started. "Actually…"

I felt Liam's eyes darting between us as they all braced for my reaction.

"What?" I said lowly, dangerously.

"I promised Malia I would help her study…" He rubbed at the back of his neck, and I felt my jaw drop. I literally felt my jaw unhinge and detach from my head.

Well, I say literally, but—

"Are you _joking?_ " I started,

"Simone! Come on! You know how bad her grades are, she's really struggling!" He continued, chasing after me as I stormed away from the back door, squeezing my keys tightly in my hands. "If she doesn't get her grades up, she'll be held back! Simone! Listen to me," He desperately continued, as Scott began to speak in a low tone to Liam behind us. It seemed like he was reassuring him; apologizing, perhaps. Hopefully. Stiles' hand gripped my shoulder, which I swatted off before whirling on him, my eyes pouring fire out on him as the voice of Satan used me as a mouthpiece to demand him to speak. "There's no one—I mean _no one_ Scott and I could possibly trust more with this," Stiles told me, gripping me by the shoulders as he locked eyes with me. "You'll get Liam to the hospital, and you'll get his leg fixed." I felt my resolve breaking as his kind words soaked in. "We just got you back, Simone," He pulled me closer and stared down at me with earnest eyes. "Why would we do anything to mess that up?"

I looked away, swallowing roughly. "This is bull crap," I sniffed, swiping at my nose.

"Are you crying?" Stiles grinned, and I breathed out a scoff.

"No! I'm… I just missed you guys. God. It's allergy season, okay? Back off…" I pouted.

"C'mere," He teasingly said, tugging me into a death-grip hug that squeezed the life from me. "I missed you and your short temper."

"Get off," I growled, my voice muffled by his chest. "Liam is in pain."

"You'll help him."

" _I'm_ in pain."

"You hurt from all your love!"

"I'm still mad at you! You bet _money_ on me!"

"And I _won_ ,"

"You and Malia are assholes!"

"But you love us," He grinned.

"…Shut up."

He pulled away from me, taking a healthy step back as we brushed ourselves off and cleared our throats. We looked around and caught Scott staring at us, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"That was precious," He teased, and we shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, all you have to do is get him there on your own, okay?" Stiles told me, seriousness leaking back into his voice. I frowned at them in confusion. "Scott will meet you there after he speaks to Kira. Right, Scott?"

"Definitely." He nodded. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't really important," Scott's eyes bled with his apology, and I shrugged a shoulder.

"Whatever." I say, bitter because I'm still not totally on board with him and Kira being a thing. For obvious reasons… He awkwardly looked away and I went around to open the driver's door. "I'll see you at the hospital, then."

I got in and slammed the door shut, ignoring the stares of Scott and Stiles as I did so. I jammed the keys into the ignition and turned it on, finally looking up to tell the boys to just go already—but they had already left. The parking lot was empty, full of vacant cars, and suddenly the stifling silence of the interior of my car became overbearing. All I could hear was Liam's back molars grinding together as he stifled his cries of pain. (Not really, it was just dead silence, but Liam was trying to be manly and pretend it wasn't as bad as it is.)

"Assholes." I whispered, referring to how easily Stiles and Scott ditched me after breaking this poor guy's leg. It didn't take long for them to expect me to just clean up their messes like Allison and I used to do all the time… Seems that old habits die hard, and this is part of the reason I distanced myself from them in the first place.

"What?" Liam asked from the back seat.

"Huh? Nothing…" I stiffened and reached out to turn the radio on, lowly, just enough to break the tense silence. I didn't want him to feel unable to speak. I was starting to sweat with anxiety. It was supremely awkward, this drive, as I shifted into reverse and set about pulling out of the parking lot. I was so focused on pretending I wasn't a completely nerve-wracked, anxious, giddy mess to be trapped so close to Liam, that I forgot what we were here for, and I gave the gas and the brakes a little to much juice. It wasn't until he yelped as I peeled out of the parking lot that I remembered.

I cursed under my breath and rammed on the brakes to slow the vehicle, which sent him sprawling forward, which made me let off the brakes and gas entirely, and a string of frantic apologies left my mouth as we coasted down the road.

Once I got my driving under control, we were still a good fifteen minutes out from the hospital. I worried my bottom lip tensely, glancing up in the review mirror to find Liam was staring intently at his ankle. He was biting his own lip, his eyes misted as he apparently was at war with himself. A surge of affection attacked my heart at his vulnerable appearance.

He seemed to be pretty upset, and maybe a bit humiliated. It made me feel awful.

"How are you—"

"Why did you—"

We suddenly both started at the same time, and I clamped my mouth shut. Biting my lip again, I glanced up in the mirror and my heart surged a bit as I spotted his eyes already looking back at me through the mirror. I cleared my throat as he shifted in the back seat. "Uh, you go." I said, tapping my anxious fingers out on the steering wheel.

He reached up to rub restlessly at the back of his head, and his motion caused a wave of the smell of his sweat to roll through the car. My eyebrows shot up, because _man,_ did he stink, and I struggled not to focus too much on how incredibly attractive he was to me as he spoke. "Why—I mean… you came running onto the field." My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "You were there even before Finstock." I opened my mouth to try and explain it away, but he continued before I could get a word in edgewise. "And when I scored against Scott and Stiles, you were cheering—or, I think you were. You also could've been booing me with that other girl, the one who made the bet with Coach. Were you? Cheering, I mean?"

I rolled my lips in my mouth as my mind raced with how honest I should be with him. But then I realized how honest he was being with me, and I knew I owed him the truth.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth, and his wide eyes blinked hopefully at me.

"You were cheering for me?" He beamed, and I pressed my lips together, trying (and failing) to conceal my smile. He saw right through me, and sank into his seat, fighting back his own smile as this news seemed to alleviate some of the negative emotions he was feeling. "…It's not that bad, ya know." He tried to cover.

I raised an eyebrow. "…Liam." I said, and his eyes flickered up to me from where he had ducked his head. "Let's make a promise, okay? This is really important to me, because I really need it in my life right now." His eyes widened and he lifted his chin to look me in the eye, through the rearview mirror, as I flicked on my turn signal and slowed the car to a gentle stop.

I stopped long enough to turn and look him in the eye. "If you're one hundred percent honest with me, I promise I'll never lie to you."

He blinked at me and looked down as I turned back to face the road. A moment of silence stretched between us and I felt my heart racing in my chest.

Just as I started to regret that intense request, he spoke up. "My ankle hurts like a bitch." He mumbled, so quietly that I struggled to catch it.

I breathed out a surprised laugh, my eyebrows scrunching together. "Yeah," I grinned. "I figured that!"

"I mean," He said through his own smile, "It _really_ hurts. I'm pretty sure I broke it!"

"I'll break Scott's ankle, if you want me to," I offered, sending him a wink through the rear view mirror. He barked out a laugh. I didn't mention the fact that it would heal almost immediately after I broke it.

"No… But maybe you could like, twist his ear, or something." He added. "Or humiliate him."

"Done, and done." I beamed, and we were about two minutes out from the hospital now. Close enough to be able to see it, but stuck behind a light. We sat in a much more comfortable, companionable silence. "I'm going to test that promise now, okay?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Right now?"

"Yeah." I took a deep breath, my cheeks burning hotly. He shifted forward, his interest piqued as I felt his gaze flickering over my blushing face. I resisted the urge to squirm and wished my hair wasn't in a ponytail so I could hide behind it. "Um… Why didn't you say anything this morning? When I—" I broke off and glanced around the road as we pulled into the hospital's parking lot. "Never mind," I quickly said, shaking my head as I popped the door open and hopped out into the humidity of the afternoon. I slammed the door shut and stayed facing away for a brief moment, letting my eyes close as I silently began to curse my own stupidity.

What was I going to ask, anyways? How _exactly_ would that conversation go? 'Hey, Liam, how come you let me make an ass of myself? Why didn't you correct me and tell me it was practice, and not tryouts? Himmna-himmna-herrb!'

I smacked my fist gently against my forehead, gathering my wits and cursing myself one final time before dropping my hand and turning around to open his door.

"Okay," I said, holding a hand out to him. "Take my hand, and then I'll support your weight when you're on your feet."

His eyes flickered up to mine sheepishly as he scooted forward and pressed his lips together. He ducked his head as he pushed across the seat, but when he looked up, all traces of nervousness had vanished. Replaced with it was a confident, collected expression, and he took my hand in his steady one. I tugged him roughly, surprising him a bit with my strength, and slid my arm under his.

"You're short," He observed, though his face wasn't teasing at all. His eyes were the purest blue I had ever seen. They went on for miles, like a clear blue sky on a warm afternoon, and his breath blew down me as he smiled gently at me when a blush warmed my cheeks.

"So?" I challenged, swinging his door shut rougher than I should've.

"So, I don't know." He shrugged a shoulder as we began to make our way up to the hospital doors. He grit his teeth through his smirk as he struggled to put as little weight on his foot as possible, and I let him set the pace. "It's cute."

 _Swoon_. In an alternate universe, a cartoon image of myself would pop up like in Lizzy Maguire, and my cartoon self would be struck silly in the head, and birds would cuckoo around me with little hearts and I would melt into a puddle on the ground.

But this is real life. This is the universe where werewolves roam Beacon Hills, and I descend from a rich family history of ruthless French hunters who lead their entire lives trying to cleanse the Earth of them. Yeah. _Very_ realistic, this life I lead.

So all that really happened was my blush intensifying tenfold, my heart jumping into my throat, and I started sweating so much, I wouldn't be surprised if I stank just as much as he did at this point. I masked it pretty well, though, as I'm used to high-tension situations, and managed not to make too much of an ass out of myself.

"Oh, go ahead. Make all the jokes you want. I can handle them, trust me." I dryly teased, and amusement danced in his eyes as he peered down at me. "I've heard them all. Allison used to call me a hobbit."

His smile quickly flashed to a confused frown. I froze under him, just as we had reached the doors to the emergency room, and before either of us could comment, a rather tall man in a white coat came bursting through the doors.

"Liam!" He exclaimed, worry painting every feature on his face. His voice was deep, and he quickly strode up to us, gesturing for a team of nurses to follow him. Or, I say a team, but I meant two nurses—one man, one woman. "Are you okay? What happened? What did you do?" They quickly followed his instruction, and before I knew it was happening, Liam was passed from me to them.

"It—It was an accident," He said. I get the feeling, with the desperate way he was defending himself, that he knew this man. "I was at lacrosse practice—"

"Never mind," The man shook his hand at him and gestured for the nurses to help him inside. "You can tell me later!"

He cast me a fleeting glance before the man in the white coat swept him into the hospital.

Another nurse stayed behind and tilted her head at me. She had her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Melissa McCall. "What happened?" She asked, her dark eyes partly knowing, partly worried.

I took a deep breath. "Lacrosse." I started.

* * *

"So, you're telling me this is my son's fault?" Melissa frowned, guilt already seeping into her features. "Scott did this?"

I sighed and looked away. "No," I said. "That's not what I'm saying! I mean, sort of, but… don't blame him!" She leveled a dry look at me. "It wasn't just him. It was… a lot of us. There were a lot of factors… involved…"

"But _Scott_ , is the one who tackled him. Right?" Melissa clarified, lowering her chin to look down at me with that _tell-me-the-truth-because-a-mother-knows_ expression on her face. I _hate_ that expression.

"…Technically," I finally admit, and she shook her head, anger seeping from her pores.

"He is _so_ grounded." She seethed. "Look at him!"

We peered into Liam's room, where he was currently being chastised by the man from before, in the white coat, who I now know to be his step-father (thank you, Melissa). Or, that's what you'd assume by the expression on Liam's face, and the fact that he looked like he was beating himself up. Like a guy who knows he's messed up. Like a scared teenager.

I sighed in sympathy. "It's my fault, too." I shook my head, and Melissa sent me a dubious look. I nodded my head instantly. "No, it's true! If I hadn't encouraged Coach, maybe it wouldn't have happened."

"Maybe…" Melissa allowed. "But, wasn't Malia the one to bribe him?"

"She made a bet with him," I clarified. Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Whatever,"

"Yes."

"Okay!" She said. "Bobby Finstock is a very… strong willed man. He wouldn't let the teasing of a five-foot-two girl sway him."

"But money," I said, and Melissa nodded with a laugh.

"Money he can't resist."

I tilted my head back and forth. "Meh," I said. "Maybe so."

She laughed at me. "You're too hard on yourself, Simone,"

"Maybe so," I repeated with a laugh of my own, and at the same moment, my phone beeped in my pocket. I looked down and saw I had a text from Scott. Before I could open it, the door to Liam's room opened. "Oh," I said, touching Melissa's shoulder briefly as I shoved my phone farther down into my pocket. I leapt down from where I had seated myself on the nurse's station. "Gotta go," I called, and Melissa hummed in acknowledgment, not bothering to comment further as I swiped up the few objects I procured for Liam, and quickly made my way to his doorframe.

I cleared my throat and rapped my knuckles against the door. He whipped his head up, and settled when he saw it was me. A slow smile stretched across his face, sending butterflies fluttering rampant around my stomach, and I bit back a smile at him.

"I come bearing gifts," I announced, holding up the snickers and Mountain Dew in my right hand, my left still hidden behind my back.

"Whaaaat," He drawled, a face-splitting grin spread across his face. I had never seen so many of his teeth at once, and felt secretly smug to know I had put it there. "You're an angel,"

"Pahh," I waved him off as he took the drink and candy bar from my hand, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and his eyes flickered to meet mine as they did. I worked around my tightening throat so I could nervously laugh, "Don't say that yet. I may or may not have broken off half of your Snickers."

He raised his eyebrows and plucked the wrapper back, showing that only a small portion of it was left. "Half?"

I cleared my throat. "Whaaat," I looked away and rubbed at the back of my neck. "The other part must've been Melissa."

"Don't blame her," He smirked. "She's a very sweet woman!"

I barked out a laugh and had to bite my knuckle to keep from guffawing as he twisted the cap of the soda, his eyebrows shooting up again when it didn't crack. "Has this been opened?" He asked, his voice tight with unshed amusement.

"Hmm?" I asked, lowering my fist from my mouth. "Oh, yeah. I also took a sip."

"Your gifts suck," He laughed, just as I pulled the real gift out from behind my back. His jaw dropped and he seemed genuinely surprised to see the poorly wrapped present I was now working double-time to conceal, as I shoved it back behind my back.

"Oh," I teased, and his adorable laugh echoed through the room. "Guess I'll just keep my hand like this then." He watched me with knowing eyes, waiting for me to cave and give him the gift, trying to silently communicate that I was busted. But I held fast. "What?" I asked, carefully keeping my smile from my face.

"Why's your hand behind your back?" He asked.

"What, that?" I looked down at where my arm was hidden, and shrugged that shoulder. "This is how I stand." He started to chuckle again, and I struggled to keep a straight face. "This is what's comfortable for me." I continued, making a big show of walking backwards to grab the chair behind me and using only my free arm to pull it closer to his bed. "It feels the most natural," The chair screeched loudly against the floor, and Liam's eyes were watering from laughing as I awkwardly pulled it against the floor.

"You—" He choked out, "You're scratching the floor!"

"Whoops," I looked down at the floor, at there were crooked streaks of black marks where the cheap chair had skidded across the waxed surface of the white tiles. "Well," I sat back up and pursed my lips at Liam. "That's the hospital's fault, really," I say as Liam grins again. "They shouldn't buy such cheap chairs!... Oh, well. It'll give the janitors something to do. They've cleaned worse off the floors, I'm sure."

His eyebrows shot up. "Have you seen Scrubs?"

"Oh god," My voice lowered as my mind flew to the hostile janitor who lurks around in that show. "You don't think?"

Liam made a show of shrugging. "Well, if they're really like that, it's too late now."

"Crap," I said, looking over my shoulder. I turned back to him we just smiled at each other for a second. It took me a moment to remember that I had something for him for realsies, and when I did, I jumped slightly before pulling it out. "Right," I said, and he made a funny face when he finally saw what it was.

"A stuffed puppy?" He asked.

"It's just…" _So you._ "It was that or the take-me-home gift basket filled with blue baby clothes. Sure, it would've brought out your eyes, but I don't think those would've fit you," I said, letting my eyes flicker over his body. "You're not _that_ short."

He teasingly pressed hand to his wounded chest, mock-wincing. "Oh, that's just what every guy wants to hear from a girl."

I smirked at him and winked. "What can I say? I'm a real charmer."

"You are," He smiles, looking at the stuffed dog in his hand, and pretending to make it look at me. I bite back a smirk of amusement at his childishness. "Shouldn't I be the one buying you stuffed animals?"

"Oh, we don't subscribe to society's expectations." I said as I shook my head, and he raised his eyebrows as he grinned and played along, making the stuffed dog look at him in confusion before it turned back to me, tilting its head.

"We don't?"

"Oh, no. I can buy you stuffed animals and hold doors open for you, whether or not your ankle is broken… Is it?"

His smile waned slightly, and dropped the toy to his leg. "Yeah. It's pretty much shattered."

I reached forward and covered his hand with mine, making the dog pout with me. "We're very sorry, Liam." I jutted my bottom lip out, and he warmly smiled at me.

"I've honestly already forgotten about it," He admitted, his words and his smile causing a warmth to trickle through me. "I can barely remember my own name when you're looking at me like that."

I felt my jaw go slack as I found myself completely dumbstruck. No one has ever said anything as sweet as that to me before, and I let my hand slide gently from his as I sat up in stunned silence. He might be the one with the broken ankle, but I feel like I was the one knocked off their feet, and I couldn't even begin to form a coherent response. Suddenly overwhelmed, I sat back and ran my fingers thoughtfully over my lips before I was able to speak. "Liam—"

My ringtone cut through the room sharply, startling both of us. The toy rolled from his hand onto the bed, and I watched him pick it back up without seeing as I held the phone up to my ear.

"Lydia?" I frowned, and was abruptly interrupted.

"Simone!" She called out, relief and worry simultaneously lacing her voice. I didn't even know that was possible.

"Lydia? What is it?" I rose from the chair, all mirth having flooded me at Lydia's panicked tone.

"You're at the hospital, right?" She asked, and I glanced around Liam's room.

"Yeah, why?"

"Scott's on his way, but there's someone I need you to look for. His name is Sean Walcott. He'll be there as a patient, he's a survivor of a triple-homicide… his…" She paused, and my mind was reeling with all the new information she was throwing at me. "His entire family was murdered." Lydia gently continued. "He was the only survivor."

I looked down at my feet, my jaw tight. "… Is that why you want me to find him?" I asked, my voice low. "Because you think we have that in common?"

"Mona," She weakly tries, but I cut her off.

"No. Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, right?" I dryly ask. I start to hang up, before I think better of it. "No, you know what," I leap out of my chair and start to pace out of Liam's room, his eyes following me the whole way. I continue when I'm outside his door. "I don't remember anything from that night, okay? You all know this! So I don't know why you insist on acting like—"

"Mona, you can just wait for Scott if you want." She breaks in. "It's fine."

"Fine." I snap. "Just forget it, Lydia. I'll find your guy."

She starts to say something else, but I've already ended the call. I turned around and gasped, coming up short.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Melissa!" I touched a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. "Make some noise when you walk! Geez…"

She smiled widely. "Jumpy, are we?"

"I guess," I defensively pouted, still in a foul mood thanks to that latest phone call. "Listen, I need to find someone." I said, and Melissa's face was immediately clouded with hesitation. "He's a patient here. Sean Walcott."

Her mouth twisted unhappily. "I would say no," She starts, which is all I need to hear to know she'll help me. "But I'm already on my way to him, so it's your lucky day." I happily skip to stand next to her.

"Excellent," I chirp, extending my arm dramatically. "After you…"

"The sheriff needs to talk to him," She explains as she begins to lead me towards the elevator. "I've held him off as long as I can, but I can't keep him at bay forever—you know that…"

My mind flashed back to all the times she had done similar things for me. I smiled gently. "I'm sure he appreciates it."

"Well, I'm not sure he appreciates much of anything at the moment. Do you know what happened to him?" She pushes the button for his floor and I take a deep breath.

"I heard."

Sympathy fills her eyes to the brim, and it's clear to me where Scott gets those expressive eyes from. "Think you could try to talk to him? Maybe he'll listen to someone his own age, especially a beautiful young lady."

I smile wryly. "What you're actually saying is, 'Especially someone who's been there.'"

Melissa's mouth popped open and she looked away, but she apparently couldn't find the words. Busted.

"It's okay," I wave her off and shrug. "I mean, I can't remember anything. I can't even remember my family, but you've done so much for me… I'll do what I can."

Her eyes were clouded with a mixture of emotions as she looked at me. "You still can't remember?" She gently asked, and I looked down at my feet without saying anything. "….Just because you can't remember them, doesn't mean you didn't lose them."

My lips pulled into a dry line. "Well. Maybe that's true…"

The elevator doors opened, and Melissa stepped off first. "Simone, I wanted to say… I'm glad you're doing so well." I looked at her from the corner of my eye. "And you _are_. Doing okay, I mean. You've lost so much," She paused, and put a warm hand on my shoulder so she could smile at me. "But I think you're the strongest person I know. You still find the strength to smile, and to joke. To be a friend. And I just…" She shakes her head and looks down. "I really admire your courage."

I could feel myself getting emotional, so I took a deep breath that broke the moment, a smile tugging at my lips. "Melissa, you're strong, too." I say with a laugh, "You've got a kid who shifts into a werewolf once a month and fights supernatural creatures on the weekends."

"And sometimes the week days." She adds with her own laugh, and I nod my head.

"You're definitely selling yourself short," I add, patting her hand. "And we all appreciate everything you do for us… Scott more so than anyone else."

I don't say it outright, and I don't know if she catches it, but I'm referencing their money troubles. I overheard Scott saying it to Stiles this morning. (At _practice,_ not tryouts) Even though she might not know that _I_ know, she's not stupid. But I wouldn't make her uncomfortable and bluntly say something like that, and I know she needed to hear it.

She smiles and nods at me, though something about the way she did it suggested maybe her heart wasn't in it, before she turned to walk the rest of the way to Sean Walcott's room.

I hung back as she opened the door and poked her head in, her clipboard in her hand still. "Sean… are you awake? The sheriff's on his way; I'm gonna need you to wake up." She said, flipping the light switch on as she looked to his bed.

She froze, and I could immediately sense something was off. My hand flashed out as I pushed the door the rest of the way open and found his bed to be empty. Melissa and I looked down at the floor at the same time, where a large pool of blood was smeared into the waxed tile floors, the body of a police officer stuck in the middle of it—and a guy around the same age as me kneeled over his body.

He had blood smeared all down his face, his neck, and onto the white fabric of his t-shirt on his chest. His hands and forearms were coated with the red substance, and he cradled what I had the unfortunate experience of identifying as a mound of human flesh, which he used the numerous rows of razor sharp teeth to dig into.

He lowered his hands and dropped the bloody flesh to the ground with a plop, slowly starting to stand, and I tugged Melissa behind me. His eyes flashed a glowing white, and it was in that moment that I was able to identify what the hell he was, exactly.

The family bestiary called him a _wendigo_ … But I think I'm gonna cut to the chase and just call him the dark lord of the underworld.

"Holy shit," I breathed, quickly tugging the sleeve of my sweater down to reveal a sheath that contained four long, skinny black spikes. "What circle of hell did you rise from," I muttered, pushing Melissa back into the hall as I twirled a spike in the palm of my hand.

"I think I'm ready to have that talk now," He creepily said to Melissa, growing slowly to his feet.

"Hell no!" I managed, slamming the door shut behind me as I pushed Melissa down the hall first. "Go, go, go!"

The door was quickly thrown open, and Sean let out a bone-chilling roar of anger before he barreled out of his room. My arm cocked back, and I threw the spike as hard as I could, aiming for his heart. He dove to the side and crashed into the wall just as the elevator doors pinged open behind us, so the spike landed somewhere closer to his lung. I pumped my fist in gruesome triumph as the spike lodged itself deep into his chest. I didn't know if it would do much else other than literally serve to be a thorn in his side, (hopefully puncture a lung, if we're lucky… but he might heal just as fast as a werewolf, so… how much good would that _really_ do) but the fact that I managed to hit him was gratifying enough.

Scott's unmistakable lionesque roar shook the walls and the windows, and it occurred to me that if the entire hospital didn't know a supernatural creature was inside, they better know now. Pretty sure the comatose patients probably just wet the bed.

It's amazing to me that the doctors on staff hadn't quit yet. I mean, as many times as werewolves—and now a wendigo—have destroyed their rooms and killed anything that moved, what _sane_ person would say to themselves: Hey. You know what? Yes, my coworker had her throat ripped out by an alpha werewolf who's got a thirst for revenge, who everyone thought was a nonresponsive burn victim. But hey! The benefits are great! I think I'll stay, and play the odds.

 _Seriously._ What do they even do when they hear crap like this going on? How do those conversations go? I would _love_ to be a fly on the wall for that… For every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills, there are fifteen oblivious idiots. Our school has to keep making repairs because we've torn so much of it to shreds. And yet, they just keep rebuilding, scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders—like, oops! Not again! Oh well!—I mean, do we even _have_ cameras in the school?

Between that and the aforementioned supernaturally attractive men crawling all over the place, it's a wonder anyone gets anything done around here.

But I digress. As I was saying before, Scott swooped in to save the day. My spike didn't do much. It slowed him down, maybe pissed him off a little, but as the bestiary states—there's no _known_ way to kill a wendigo. It's pretty much all he-said-she-said, that book, and when it comes down to it, it doesn't help a whole lot. If anything it just raises more questions. At least, that's my experience.

So, okay, the book says a wendigo is strong enough not only to fight with an alpha werewolf, but possibly to also _win_ such a fight. Okay. Well, it also says it's impossible to kill an Oni, and we all know _that_ isn't true…

Suffice it to say that while I have been having this inner monologue, Scott engaged in a super-cool fight scene, one which no one won, because the wendigo did this really crazy clicky growl with his mouth and then—it happened so fast that I don't know... maybe he pushed him? I can't be sure, but Scott sailed off of the wendigo and crashed into the wall behind them, giving the wendigo a chance to escape.

Scott turned to where I was still standing protectively in front of Melissa.

"I'm okay!" She shouted at him, and Scott's red eyes flashed through the hallway with worry.

"Are you sure?" He asks, hesitating between chasing that son of a bitch down, and checking on his mom. I place a hand on her upper arm and wave Scott off.

"I've got her!" I reassure him. "I'll get her to safety, you can trust me! Go!"

And without another word needing to be said, Scott disappeared down the hall.

I turned to Melissa and endured her gushing over me, thanking me profusely and proclaiming a lot of praise over the Argent family.

"Seriously, what is it with you guys?" She asks, as I lead her behind the nurse's station and tell her to sit. "You're all so capable—and I have no idea what I'm doing, ever, especially when it comes to the supernatural," I grab a box of tissues and hand them to her. She frowns because she doesn't need them, but I mostly just wanted to feel like I was doing something, so that's why I handed those to her. "You guys just dive right in and save the day. You protect people. Allison was the same way, and so is Chris, and your mom—I mean—" she broke off, her eyes wide when she realized her mistake. Her hand came up to clamp over her mouth. "Your aunt…" She said quietly.

I was struck with a torrent of conflicting emotions. Victoria was hard for me to pin down. She was kind of scary, to be honest, and _very_ intense. One thing's for sure, all the most badass traits that Allison had came from Victoria. For a while I wasn't sure if she liked me at all, but we bonded near the end, and I can't deny that I loved her very much, and miss her every day. Her death was especially tragic.

I smile weakly. "You're in shock." I said to Melissa, and she nodded mechanically at me, dropping her hand from her mouth.

"I think I just saw my patient eating the liver out of a cop." She blinked up at me and I pressed my lips together.

"Really? I thought it was the pancreas…" I mused, using humor as my go-to response, and she flinched slightly, her face paling quickly. I couldn't hold back a laugh as I touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry," I grinned. "I've got a pretty sick sense of humor. You've got to if you want to stay sane when you're living my life. Anyways… can I get you anything? What do you get for people in shock? Blankets," I suddenly gasp, rocketing to my feet. "And chocolate!"

I read once that sugar is good for people in shock. It keeps their blood glucose at a safe level, and it's also usually recommended to get them something with salt, because their body might be sweating a lot due to their adrenaline. And worrying.

Melissa shakes her head, and her hand grips my ankle before I can so much as step away. I look down at her. "To be honest with you, the whole time I've been talking to you since Scott left, all I can think about is whether or not he's gonna be okay." Her voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I just need to know he's okay."

I felt myself soften, my shoulders sagging slightly. "…Alright." I said quietly. "I'll go. You stay here, okay? Stay." I point down at her as I quickly hop backwards, and she lets go of my ankle and nods.

"I'll get help."

"What?" I ask, nearly falling over with the speed I have to use to poke my head back around the corner. "No! We _are_ the help! You stay. Stay!"

"I'll stay," She says, still gesturing to the spot she's sitting in. I narrow my eyes skeptically. "I'll stay and get help."

"Oh, my god," I groan, twisting my fingers into my hair. "Are you drunk? Because you sound drunk. Maybe I need to get you that chocolate— _oh_! I know! Stay here, I'll be right back with some chocolate," I cried, thinking of the Snickers I gave Liam. Snickers have both sugar _and_ salt (peanuts and caramel) "Then I'll go to Scott!"

Melissa nodded up at me and I was already backing away. "I'll be back! Stay!"

She points down to the ground, but then I can't see her anymore, and I vaguely hear her say something about getting help.

I hope she stays.

* * *

Liam's hall is empty, which is unsettling. There's also blood smeared on the ground, and a picture's been knocked off the wall, which terrifies me, and I scramble to his room—where the door is open and the room is empty.

The stuffed dog I gave him is still tangled in the blankets. I run to grab it and clutch it close to my chest, my mind racing.

Where could they be? _Where could they be?_

It's a really big hospital. They could be anywhere. I go to the hallway and decide the stairwell would be the best thing to start with, and the door is heavy under my hands as I push it open.

It's very surreal, the intense worry that I feel for Liam. Honestly, he's been through a lot today—he doesn't need to be mixed up in all this supernatural crap, to boot. We just discovered he was human, and I really like that about him. If he dies, I just might go crazy, because I can't handle losing another person.

I'm turning back and forth, frantically glancing between the stairs leading up, and the stairs leading down, trying to decide which way to go, when I hear it.

A scream. It's loud, and it's distinctly human. I'm already halfway up the stairs when I hear the door I just popped out of opening, and I catch a glimpse of a bald head attached to a huge body all clad in black.

I ignore that fact as I burst onto the roof, the wind immediately tearing at my hair. It's night out, when did that happen? But I push that shocker to the back of my mind as I focus on the scene in front of me and struggle to make sense of it.

Sean is on someone's back, making that crazy clicking growl noise—similar to that of a rattlesnake's—and a glimpse of a blue jean jacket tells me that he's clawing at Scott's back. Okay, so they're on the edge of the roof, Scott is half hanging over the side, and Sean is trying to pull him up? Is he saving him?

I hear a distressed grunt, frantic, panicked, human—no. Okay. My mind is reeling to reassess the situation.

Liam is—Liam is _dangling off the side of the roof_ , Scott is trying to help him up—and _this fucker_ is trying to pull Scott away!

 _Hell no_!

One hand still gripping the toy dog, I drop a spike into my palm, and I don't hesitate to send it sailing into Sean's back. He screams out in pain, his hand still locked around Scott's forearms, and he arches his back and pulls up. This means he pulls Scott up, which means Scott drops Liam. I can see Liam's fingers as he struggles to hold onto the edge, and I hear his panicked voice as he tells Scott that he can't hold on, and I'm halfway across the roof now.

I reach them just in time to see Liam's fingers disappear over the edge—and I scream his name, and that's when Scott's head bobs down and he latches onto Liam's wrist with his fangs, and I'm tugging at Sean's back.

About a million thoughts are flying through my head… first, relief, because Scott's desperate move actually works and saves Liam. Then, shock, because Scott's an alpha who just _bit Liam,_ and third, Sean is trying to buck me off, but I've got him in a chokehold. (I'm really good at chokeholds. Chris taught me how to do them) I plant my feet on the ground and jerk him up as hard as I can, and I feel a bone in his neck pop, and he lets go of Scott, but then the door of the roof bursts open.

Sean has lost his grip on Scott, and I move on instinct. The unmistakable sound of a blade whistling through the air reaches my ears, and I've whirled on my heels to poke Sean's chest out so that he catches the axe arcing towards us.

He collapses and I go down with him, my arm still trapped under one of his shoulders. I feel a gross sensation of déjà vu that I can't explain when I frantically tug my arm from under his dead body and some of his blood spurts onto me as the bald man from the stairwell tugs his pickaxe out from Sean's chest.

Scott is gawking at the newcomer, and I glance behind him and sag slightly in relief when I see Liam writhing safely on the roof behind him. It's a shortlived victory, because the man is already disappearing behind a structure on the roof, and I finally notice he's got no mouth.

Literally. His mouth, where it should be, is simply a patch of skin. It looks like he's got one giant chin. It looks like his chin swallowed his mouth, and I can't keep myself from gasping as he (ironically) raises a single finger to where his mouth should've been, his black eyes fixed on Scott.

What the hell? He disappears behind the corner, and I look up at Scott in shock.

"Please tell me you saw that, too," I panted, and Scott's wide red eyes blinked back at me as he slowly manages to nod. I nod back and him, and we take a moment to catch our breath.

We're interrupted when Liam's grunts of pain reach our ears. Scott takes my hand and helps me to sit up, and Liam's face is a contorted mixture of panic, confusion, and fear as he pants and gawks at Scott's werewolf face. I looked up to see what he was seeing.

Scott looks scared. He looks panicked, and he's definitely just as much at a loss for words as I am. His nose looks swollen, stuck halfway between a snout and a real nose. He's got hair in all the places that a cheesy black-and-white film werewolf would, except it seems well kept and neater, somehow. And his ears protrude from the side of his head, pointed at the ends, and they're hairy, too.

But most notably of all, he's got these canines protruding from his mouth. More so than your typical run of the mill werewolf and it's _definitely_ unsettling. To me, it's not terrifying, but hey… even before Scott was my friend, he was my business—he was my enemy. Or so my family would have me believe. And given what allegedly happened that fateful night so many summers ago, they _should_ be my natural enemy.

The only reason I'm not terrified of them, the only reason I'm not vindictive is because I can't remember that night at all. All I know are the stories I've heard, and the person who told me those stories first was Allison. And she doesn't hate werewolves, so, in turn—neither do I. She explained it _way_ differently than Kate, or Chris, or even Gerard did, and I shudder to think how differently I could've turned out if Kate or Gerard had gotten to me first on the matter.

Still, I know Liam is scared and he's confused—and he's in pain because his ankle is still broken, and his wrist probably burns like a mother, _and_ he doesn't understand an ounce of what just happened…

And he's looking at me now. He looks like he feels betrayed, somehow, and it tears at my heart.

"Liam," I try, and I have to raise my voice a bit due to the wind.

"What—" He stutters, "What happened to _honesty_ , Simone?" His voice is raw, and it breaks slightly. "What happened to never lying to me?"

Scott looks between us in unmasked shock. He's confused because he missed out on that particular conversation, and as far as he knows, Liam and I have barely spoken. But, well… that's not exactly true.

"I'll tell you everything," I stepped over Sean's body, and Liam's wide eyes get stuck there. He can't seem to look away from Sean as I slowly approach him, and I do regret that. Probably, I shouldn't have stepped over a dead body when I'm trying to convince someone to trust me. Especially not someone like Liam… "But first, we have to get you off the roof."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"No!" Liam exclaimed, his eyes wild and terrified. "I'm not going anywhere with—with that… with him!"

I turned to look back at Scott, where he was now looking very guilty. It was almost amusing, given that his some of his canines were nearly as big as my pinky finger, and still razor sharp, and his eyes were glowing a demonic red. The signature alpha face, one that tends to come as a bit of a shock when you're unfamiliar with the supernatural world, and it doesn't translate a pout well.

"Scott," I hissed, my back turned turned to Liam. I pushed my hand down frantically, like I was telling him to tone it down, "With the fangs!? And the claws, _please!_ "

Scott blinked rapidly and his familiar brown eyes screamed at me to tell him what to do. "Right," He squeezed his fingers into a fist so his claws were hidden, and flexed his jaw in an effort to speed the process of rescinding his fangs. "My bad."

I turned back to Liam, but he had stood up from where he was propped against one of the hospital's vents. I knew his ankle would already be on its way to healing. And so would his wrist. He was currently looking down at his foot, testing his weight on his leg and seeming very confused when he didn't feel as much pain.

"Liam…" I gently tried, stepping closer with my hands up, like I was approaching a frightened animal. His head snapped up and I froze.

"Stay back!" He cried, pointing more so at Scott than at me. "Just—both of you!" His frantic blue eyes landed on me, then. "Don't get any closer!"

"Liam, we're trying to help you," I said, making an effort to keep my voice smooth and even. It's what you're supposed to do in these situations. I read about it once. When someone's gone through an inexplicable trauma, you're not supposed to use harsh tones or anything that might excite them in any way. The goal is to calm them enough to get them to safety, to keep them from hurting themselves… or others.

But, this is a special case. Given that Liam just bore witness to something that isn't supposed to exist in reality outside of a television screen, my number one concern is to keep the word _crazy_ out of the equation. Because I know from experience that if it hasn't yet, it's about to start flying through his mind. And once it starts, it's hard to stop it.

I stepped closer, and he scrambled backwards, pressing his back against the vent and shaking his head violently. "He _bit_ me!" Liam screamed, looking down at his wrist and letting out a frustrated, pained grunt. "It really hurts!"

"Well—" I chuckled. I couldn't help it; he's being too cute, I wasn't expecting him to say that. It seems that the honesty thing stuck. "Yeah! Of course it does! That's why I want to help," His eyes watched my every move as I slowly closed in on him.

"It won't hurt for long, okay, Liam?" Scott helpfully piped up from behind me. Everything inside of me wanted to turn around and punch him straight in the nose, because all of my progress has just been swept away as Liam gawked incredulously at Scott.

"…Are you _crazy_?" He screeched, his blue eyes flashing as he was swallowed by frustration and terror. My eyes slid closed. There it is… there's the bad word. "You _bit me_! Look at this!" He stuck his wrist out, where it looked as if it had been mauled by a bear. The sleeve of his grey shirt was now soaked a deep red, almost black color, and it seemed like someone had literally dug holes into his flesh. Which, Scott _did_. With his teeth.

 _Shudder._

"Okay, let's just…" I put my hands out between the boys before Liam could try to jump Scott. "Let's just calm down, okay? We're all really upset." _Not_ crazy, Liam. _Upset_. "Someone _died_. And we almost did! Let's just get out of here,"

"Where are we gonna go?" Scott suddenly asked me, apparently wanting me to suggest an idea. To help, if not to take the lead. I wondered if it was because I was an Argent… because I had undergone the same training that Allison had. Because Chris is my voice of reason when I'm in over my head. If it was because I looked so much like Allison, who would know the right call to make. What would Allison do?

"Well, we can't go to my house," I snorted dismissively, expecting Scott to quickly dash that thought away.

"What?" He asked, as if that's what he had assumed would happen. "Why not?"

"Scott," I frowned. He blinked at me. "Come on! Hello?... Chris would—"

"Oh," He glanced back at Liam. "You're right… _Crap,_ you're right, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I just—I think I'm just used to—" _Allison_ "Stiles." I shifted uncomfortably. "It's not important, we'll just go to my house."

"I'm not going anywhere." Liam shook his head stubbornly, and Scott and I both dug our heels into the roof a little at that. Sirens began to wail in the distance, and Scott and I whirled to exchange a panicked glance, both of us inaudibly squealing like little girls with our eyes at each other. We whirled back around to Liam.

"You have to come right now," I waved my hand so fast it was like a little fan, stepping forward to grab Liam's shoulder. "We gotta go. Talk time is over, let's move it or lose it—" He jerked his shoulder out from under me.

"No!" He insisted, stomping his foot back down as he planted his feet on the ground and squared his shoulders. "I'm going to find my stepdad!"

" _What?_ " Scott and I chorused. "Do you really think he'll believe you? I mean, is that really a good idea?" Scott continued, and Liam shrank back, the determined scowl on his face dwindling faster by the second.

"He's going to want you to talk to the cops," I added. Liam's blue eyes settled on me, and I felt like he was silently begging me to help him. To try and understand, try to see things from his side. To not stop him.

"He's my stepdad," Liam said lamely. "I have to talk to him," He pushed off the vent and tried to shoulder past me, which I didn't put up a fight. I didn't want to knock him down, because he was still limping a bit. Scott wasn't so generous. He latched onto Liam's shoulder, and his eyes flashed red as the sirens grew closer, probably scaring Liam further.

"Liam." Scott ground out. His instincts were kicking in, as the stakes quickly rose. I straightened slightly as I watched Scott's backbone form, his desperation forcing him to make quick decisions. It's usually the right ones. Stiles usually intervenes a bit, putting his own spin on plans, but he almost always makes the right calls…

Almost.

It's rare that I'm in such a position of power. It's not every day that I find myself able to call the shots; usually I just do a lot of investigating, and a _lot_ of clean up. So I guess, in a way, this is clean up. Or… more like… containment. I needed to contain the situation, so that we could reassess it.

Yes.

I looked back up, feeling like a fog had been lifted from my brain (or maybe the shock was wearing off) and was surprised to find Liam's nose was bloodied, and he was limp in Scott's arms.

"Scott!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands out and gesturing wildly to an unconscious Liam. "What have you done!?"

"He wouldn't listen!" Scott's voice was strained with panic. "I—I had to do it! He was going crazy!"

"What are you talking about—"

"Simone, what happened to you?" Scott asked, readjusting Liam's weight slightly. I frowned at him.

"Huh?" I dumbly asked.

"You…" Scott's eyes overflowed with concern. "You looked like you were spaced out. When Liam was… freaking out, I called to you, and you just stared at the ground. What happened?"

The blood in my veins ran cold, the hairs on my arms rising. I spaced out? I missed Liam trying to attack Scott? What… what? "I don't know what you're talking about," I breathed. "I—I can't remember."

Scott frowned at me for a minute more before knocking Liam to the ground.

"Scott!" I exclaimed, rushing forward to check on Liam. Scott barked something about it being an _accident,_ though that didn't sound very sincere. Before I could kneel next to him, Scott grabbed him by the waist and lugged him over his shoulder, holding him by his legs and letting his torso hang over his back. Suddenly, his knocking Liam over made more sense. He couldn't carry Liam with the way he had been propped against his arms. It was the wrong angle, so he laid him down to get easier access. I stumbled back and scurried around behind Scott, flapping uselessly around him. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"We've gotta get out of here!" Scott reminded me, and it was then that I realized how close the sirens were. I clamped my mouth shut and nodded, even though I wanted to scold Scott some more for how he's handled the situation. I could've talked Liam down, I know I could've… if I hadn't become totally _useless_ for a minute there…

* * *

"So where is he now?" Stiles asked from the passenger seat. I glanced at him, taking my eyes off the road for a minute. After dropping Scott and Liam off at Scott's house, I was sent to pick up Stiles. I was still bitter that he ditched me to 'study' with Malia… honestly, I doubt much studying got done. I mean, really! How often, okay, when two teenagers get together for a study session, how often does any actual studying get done? It's like, a code for make out session. Just like 'Netflix and relax'… pfft, there will be no relaxing. Maybe some Netflix in the background, but trust me, it won't last.

So I didn't really appreciate Stiles having missed all of what happened tonight so he could make out with Malia. As such, I've been a little bitter… A little passive aggressive, even.

"I told you! He's at Scott's house," I tried to keep the venom out of my voice, I really did. Stiles raised his eyebrows at me and flung his hands out, and I took a corner sharply, causing him to hit his head on the window. I smirked and his mouth popped open in a silent wince.

"Slow down, would ya!" He exclaimed. "And I'm sorry! I can't remember, you're throwing a lot of information at me! You saw a guy with no mouth? How is that even possible? And now Scott bit the freshman! We _just_ found out he's human! And now, Liam is gonna be a _werewolf,_ Simone!"

"I know!" I cried, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. "I know… Ironic, isn't it?" Stiles sent me a dry look, and I cleared my throat before continuing. Tough crowd. Maybe it's a touch too soon… "He's at Scott's house. That's where we're headed now."

Stiles pursed his lips and brought a nervous thumb up to his mouth, chewing at his nail. I almost nagged him to cut it out, but before I could speak, he continued. "So, ah," And that's how I knew he was trying to be casual. I don't know if you know this, but Stiles _sucks_ at trying to be casual. His voice tightens too much, and he gets twitchy. To be fair, he's pretty good at lying. Too good. I watched as he ran a hand over his hair, tapped on the handle of the door, and shook his knee all at once. "What'd you tell Chris?"

Ah. The dreaded Chris question. They don't come along very often, but when they do, it's always like they're walking on eggshells. I was tempted to freak Stiles out and tell him Chris was meeting us there, but I wasn't really in the mood, and it was bad timing, anyways. "He thinks I have to help Malia study," I quipped, and Stiles sighed heavily.

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?" He asked, as I pulled into Scott's driveway and flicked the lights off, and I took a page from Derek's book and let a brief silence stretch through the car that screamed _do you really have to ask_.

"…No. Probably not."

"Right," Stiles forced his voice to be upbeat and nonchalant. "Great. Okay then," And with that, we both popped our doors open and bounded up Scott's steps.

We let ourselves in, but I was slightly surprised to find Scott already waiting for us in his living room. "Did you catch him up?" He asked, already leading the way towards his stairs. I navigated his living room effortlessly in the dark, knowing to step to the right a bit so I didn't bang my shin on the corner of his coffee table, and when to step down as we passed from the living room to the dining room. I've been here a lot.

"Yeah," Stiles and I chorused. "Pretty much."

We glanced at each other, silently scowling. _Stop that_ , our looks said. We looked back to Scott, who raised his eyebrows at us as we paused by the stairs.

"What'd you tell your dad, Stiles?" He asked, and Stiles put his hands on his hips.

"Well, I told him what I could, which wasn't much." He hesitated, tilting his head. "But, then, sometimes my dad knows not to ask too many questions."

We all nodded at that. Scott looked at me.

"Chris thinks I'm studying with Malia." I smirked. Stiles grew very still, moving only to throw a single hand out.

"Did ya really tell him that?"

I nodded, my eyebrows raised as I crossed my arms. "Oh, yeah." I smugly narrowed my eyes. "You bet your sweet ass I did." Stiles rolled his eyes, but I turned my focus onto Scott. "Where's Liam?"

Scott glanced up stairs, shifting uncomfortably. "He's… um… lying down."

Stiles and I exchanged a disbelieving sneer. Dread filled my stomach as I shoved past the boys and took the steps two at a time, almost afraid of what I would find.

"Simone," Scott shouted after me, which I dutifully ignored.

"Liam!" I called out, skipping straight to Scott's room. I pushed the door open and froze, seeing the bed to be empty. No muscular, five foot five blonde hottie here. Scott and Stiles skidded to a stop behind me, and Scott laid his hand on my shoulder as I continued to glance around his surprisingly tidy room. Bed, lamp, side table, desk, another lamp, rug, laundry hamper, lacrosse bag… no Liam.

"Simone," Scott said as I slowly turned my eyes onto him, seething.

"Liam?" I called out again, more panicked this time. "Where are you?"

I pushed around Scott and Stiles. "Scott, just tell us where he—" Stiles shut up as a strange noise greeted us from the bathroom down the hall. I frowned, seeing that the light was on and the door was mostly closed. Tilting my head, I ignored Scott and Stiles and quickly made my way down the hall.

I didn't waste time as I opened the door, Liam's muffled cries now impossible for me to ignore, and my eyes fell on the shower curtain that was pulled completely shut.

"Scott!" I groaned, and strode forward to tear the curtain back. "Oh, my god," Liam laid below me, duct tape wrapped around him from head to toe. "I said to calm him down! Not _hold him hostage_!"

"Well," Scott cried, throwing a defensive hand down at Liam, where he squirmed and tried to yell at us through his tape. "He wouldn't stop trying to get away! What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, _talk to him_ like any rational human being would do!" I exclaimed, and Stiles—ever the mediator—flapped a placating hand between the two of us.

"Okay, okay, let's take this outside, huh, guys?" He gestured for the door, and I rolled my sleeves up.

"Alright," I challenged, misinterpreting what he said. "It's like that, then,"

Stiles put a hand on my shoulder and scrunched his face, and I paused from rolling my sleeves up. He shook his head, and I glanced over at Scott, who was also looking at me strangely. "No," He frowned. I clamped my mouth shut as he dragged me towards the door. "…Just, no."

I jerked my shoulder out from under his grasp and tugged my sweater back into place from where it had gotten crooked. "I'm not going to play this game with you guys," I said, shaking my head. They held a silent conversation; one that I knew meant they took offense to what I just said. Well. I'm not sorry! Scott is way out of line here!

"What game?" Stiles spoke first, frowning as he shrugged at me with his hands on his hips.

"The 'let's try to justify what horrible decisions we've made so we feel better about them'. Or, better yet, 'let's try to handle this like they do in the movies, and sit him down on a chair in the middle of a room to give him a talking-to.'"

Stiles sat up straight and crossed his arms with a scoff, looking at Scott. "I wasn't going to suggest that," He shrugged.

"Either of those things," Scott shook his head with Stiles as they tried to play it off, and I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever." I dismissed, focusing on Liam. "I'm going to help you up now, okay?" I said, using a gentler tone for him. If his eyes were anything to go by, he's pissed. "God, Scott," I grumbled as I grabbed Liam by the shoulder and helped to haul him up. "What's wrong with you?"

"Alright," Stiles interrupted. "That's enough."

"Thank you, Stiles," Scott nodded.

"Scott might've made a stupid decision, okay?" I raised my eyebrows as Liam and I worked to get him standing, and I tried not to focus on how firm his shoulders and arms were. His eyes met mine and I felt my face heat up as Stiles continued to babble. I broke our gaze and focused on his chest, which wasn't a better alternative, as I steadied him by putting my hand on his back. "He might've traumatized this kid beyond all repair. And sure, maybe he took it too far when he broke out the duct tape!"

Once Liam was sitting on the edge of the tub, I turned back to the boys and put my hands on my hips. "Are you going to make your point or what?"

Stiles pursed his lips and glanced at Scott. "… I honestly can't remember where I was going with that anymore."

Scott scoffed, and I grinned in spite of the situation. "If you guys aren't going to help me, just get out."

"Oh, I could… rip…" Stiles awkwardly suggested, eyeing the places Liam was taped up. "There… somewhere…."

Scott sighed and put his hand out, gesturing to various spots with Stiles. "There?" They mused. "No, no, that's too close… you're right. Well, maybe if we—"

"Just get out," I grunted, shoving at their shoulders. Their mouths flopped like a fish as I steered them towards the door, both of them offering weak protests. "Out! Get out! You've done enough,"

"I've not done a thing!" Stiles whined.

"Oh, no. No no! You helped Malia study!" I said as I shut the door behind them, Stiles' groan echoing through the hall. I turned slowly on my heel, looking back at Liam sheepishly. He was still pissed, as he panted angrily on the tub and his nostrils flared. I pressed my lips together and cleared my throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy. "First things first…" I said, trying to fill the awkward silence as I moved to paw through Scott's medicine cabinet. "Let's get that tape off."

I pulled out some scissors and waved them in Liam's direction, and he lowered his chin slightly, not doing much to respond to my upbeat attitude. I was trying to lighten the situation, but it didn't seem to be doing much good. "Now that we're alone we can finally get down to business. Just a light trim, or are you feeling more daring?" I teased, masking my voice with a lisp and a feminine flare. I jut my hips out and swung the scissors on my fingers. "I really see a ducktail for you," I framed my hands as I stepped closer to him, doing my best Robin Williams imitation I could manage. "Something about you just screams Grease Lightning, _whoa,_ grease lightning!"

I began to snap my fingers and dramatically started to wobble my knees as I strode, doing the walk that Danny did in the garage scene from Grease. "Go grease lightning, you're burnin' up the quarter mile!"

I pointed to Liam, implying that he take the next verse, but he had tape on his mouth. His eyes were fighting a smile, and I pressed my lips together as he hummed the next part. "Yeahhh," I laughed, pumping my fist happily at him. "I knew you'd play along." His eyes crinkled at the edge, and he didn't seem pissed anymore. In fact, he seemed somewhat amused. I bit my lip and crossed the bathroom, sitting on the tub next to him. Our knees touched, something I was hyper aware of, but neither of us moved to change that fact as I set the scissors down and faced him. "I guess you want some answers now, don't you?"

He scrunched his eyebrows at me, and I sighed. My mind flashed back to all that had happened tonight… "There are some things I won't be able to explain, because I don't know myself." I warned him, thinking of the man with no mouth. "But as far as answers, I'm probably the best one to explain things to you. I know a lot more about things than most of my friends do."

Liam's face told me he didn't really follow, but he seemed to be listening calmly now. I pursed my lips, and even though it made my heart race, I met his gaze and held it. "I'm really sorry about everything." I said, my voice quiet. He grunted through the tape, reminding me he still needed that taken off, and I ran a hand over my ponytail at the thought of touching his face so intimately. "I'm going to take the tape off your arms now, okay?"

He nodded, and I reached out to pinch where the tape was stuck on the fabric. Creating a small notch with the scissors, I used my nail and really pulled at it, and with a little effort, it began to unravel. I peeled it all the way across his chest, and it took every ounce of will power in my body not to look up and make eye contact with him when my face was inches from his. Close enough to feel his warm breath on my skin, and I was praising myself for not giving in—until he shifted. I looked up on instinct, and felt my heart stutter when I caught sight of his beautiful blue eyes. He was watching me as I helped him, all traces of anger and humor gone, and my heart came back to life. It took off like a furious bunny, pattering across my chest, and my breath caught in my throat. His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and somewhere deep inside my mind I screamed and fainted.

I quickly pulled up and reached behind him. The first ring was down, and I made quick work of the second one, going as fast as I could until he was able to maneuver his own arms.

With his hands now free, Liam peeled the tape off his mouth. "Ahhh," He winced, rubbing at the tender skin around his mouth. I scolded myself when I abruptly wished that those were my fingers, sliding across the tub to put some much needed distance between us. It was getting difficult to think, and I needed a clear mind if I was going to explain things to him.

I sighed heavily and breathed in some fresh air. "Hummm," I huffed. "Where to begin… So, obviously, you saw Scott's face," I said, sneaking a glance at Liam.

"I don't think I could _un_ see that if I wanted," He mused, tilting his head bitterly. "What about that guy? The one with the… the teeth."

I took a breath. "Ah," I said, "Let's take it one thing at a time, okay?"

Liam rubbed at the back of his neck. "What's… what's happening to me?"

"You can already feel it?" I asked, curious as to how this worked. I've never actually been with someone as the bite takes its course. I've always wondered how long it takes before the effects start to take place.

"I don't know what I'm feeling," Liam rose to his feet and I started to follow him, until l saw he was just going to pace. "I shouldn't be able to do this right now," He reminded me, pointing down at his foot.

"Yeah, that's part of it," I said, grappling with the best way to explain things. "You'll heal faster. Your senses will be heightened, too."

"Senses?" He frowned, pausing to look at me. "What, like smell and taste?"

"I don't know about taste," I frowned. "Or touch…" A blush spread across my cheeks at the thought of those two senses being heightened, and I quickly moved on. "Smell, definitely. Hearing. And sight, too."

He looked down and hummed to himself, setting about pacing again. "Will I be able to…. Do what Scott does?"

"You'll do everything Scott does, basically." I propped my chin on my hand and sighed. "Do you even know what he is, Liam?"

He paused, thinking a moment before scrunching his face up and throwing a hand out. "Not really!"

I sighed and looked down, toeing the ground. "He's… I mean, _you're…_ and I want you to remember what I said about never lying to you..." I pointed at Liam and he stopped pacing, hanging on my every word. He nodded profusely. "You're a werewolf."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

He blinked at me, his hands clutching at the sides of his shirt, not quite on his hips, but nearly, and he had stopped dead in his tracks from where he had been pacing.

Silence sang through the room, and I shifted anxiously, waiting for it to sink in. Waiting for him to start asking a million questions. His eyebrows tugged down into a deep frown when it became apparent I wasn't going to completely call it off and reassure him I was joking, and he tilted his head with his mouth open.

He managed a small noise, clamped his mouth shut, and looked away. I could practically see his mind working double-time to try and provide himself a reasonable, rational explanation for what I was saying.

Maybe he thinks I'm crazy. Maybe he thinks _he's_ crazy. Maybe he thinks I'm telling the truth? He popped his mouth open and tried again… "H—Hhhhoww," He breathed out, tilting his head as his mind furiously tried to pump the questions out.

I pursed my lips and crossed my legs, gripping my knee. "It's okay." I murmured. "Take your time."

He backed up, stumbling into the toilet. "I—I need to sit down."

I awkwardly gestured to the toilet and nodded as he sank down onto the lid. "Yeah, that's good. Just sit there." I said, though he wasn't listening to me. "On the toilet…. It's fine."

He squinted down at his feet and shook his head slowly. "You're lying." He suddenly accused, looking up at me with conflicted eyes. "It's impossible! _Werewolves,_ Simone? Really," He gave me that comically skeptical look, the overly exaggerated one that has like, three chins.

I breathed out a laugh, "I know! It's… it sounds impossible—"

"Because it is!" He interjected, which I ignored.

"It's the truth! The bite—Scott bit you, and you can already feel the change, can't you?" He clamped his mouth shut and glanced down at his arm, hesitating. "Admit it. You're already changing."

Frustration was evident on his face, and he sounded pretty pissed as he ground out, " _I…_ don't know _what's_ happening to me. I was attacked tonight. Scott _broke_ my ankle, and he kidnapped me and threw me in his tub! And now, you've trapped me in his bathroom, and you're telling me that I'm a _werewolf?_ What!" He suddenly shot up from the toilet and threw his arms up, moving towards the door.

I quickly scrambled to get in front of him, pushing at his chest. His nostrils flared and it seemed like he was forcing himself not to physically knock me out of the way. Apparently needing to get some frustration out, his hand whipped out and he knocked over a can of shaving cream and hairspray. They clattered noisily to the floor, but we both ignored it, and he seemed like he was about to explode, like he would throw a punch at any given minute—but honestly, I think he's just scared.

I reached out and grabbed his uninjured forearm, making my voice the polar opposite of his—calm, low, gentle—soothing. Running my fingertips down his arm, I locked gazes with him. "Liam," I said. He hesitated and stopped struggling to get past me. "Listen to me, okay? All I want to do is help you…" He sat up straight and frowned down at me, clearly at war with himself as I tried desperately to calm him. "Just let me help you! I can explain everything if you just give me the chance."

He stared at me, his eyes flickering all across my face. Testing my sincerity. Weighing his options and trying to figure out whether he should give me the chance. Before he could say anything, someone pounded at the bathroom door and broke the moment. I tensed in frustration and dropped my soothing tone. "Just a minute!" I snapped, looking away from Liam.

"Simone? Are you okay? What's going on?" The pounding relentlessly continued, and I tried to repair the connection with Liam.

"Just, give me a few more minutes before you leave, okay?" I said, my hand itching to grab his. But I didn't want to push too far, and something about that seemed like it was going too fast, so I settled for gripping the edge of the sink and putting my hand on the wall to block his path. "There are things you need to know."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Scott's voice came through the door again. "Simone! I'm coming in—" The doorknob squeaked as it was turned.

" _No_!" I cried, stunning the boys in the hallway into silence. The doorknob froze, and Liam looked down at me in surprise, my tenacity apparently beginning to win him over. "Just—give us a minute! It's a lot to take in, you know that! Chill out!"

They settled, though I knew it was unhappily and hesitant. I looked back up at Liam and found that his shoulders were still tense and he seemed reluctant, but he took a step back and nodded once at me. I didn't dare drop my hand from the wall.

Taking a deep breath, I tried again. "It's not supposed to be possible. I know that. But it is… this is happening, Liam," I locked gazes with him and kept my face grim and devoid of any hint of amusement, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "Everything is about to change. But things can go wrong… Which is why you need to trust us. We can help you through this, if you just give us a little bit of trust. Scott—" I broke off and glanced away briefly. "He can be an idiot, but his heart is in the right place. He panicked tonight. A lot of things happened, and it's going to take time to explain it all to you. What you need to know, above everything else, is that you're not alone in this."

His resolve was fading, if the tightness draining out of his shoulders is anything to go by. His eyes also softened, and his face relaxed from _I'm-pissed-off-you-better-get-out-of-my-way_ to _well-maybe-I-could-use-some-help-because-I'm-confused_.

"Scott made a lot of questionable moves tonight. But it was with all the right intentions… Werewolves—are… they're…" I struggled with how to explain it, my hand dropping from the wall as I tried to find the right words. They're not _monsters_. I mean, I certainly know a few, and I don't want to tell him that they don't exist when I know that eventually he will run into one (cough cough, Peter…) and then he'll look to me and wonder why that never came up. But I don't want him to think he's going to become a bloodthirsty animal, either… "They can be dangerous. Right now is the most critical time, Liam… the way that _this,_ " I gestured down to his bite, and then all around us. "Right now? Is handled? It can be the difference between disaster and—" for lack of a better word, "Miracle."

I had lost him. He was giving me a scrunched up face, like I had just spewed out the most difficult scientific equation and asked him to solve it using only a Rubik's cube and this paper clip. I sighed, and tried again. "There's a reason that legends depict werewolves as homicidal monsters." He panics, and I immediately grapple to back pedal, "I mean! You're not going to—hopefully you won't… okay. I'm doing a worse job than I hoped." I shifted and tried using my hands to better explain the situation, and Liam was becoming increasingly anxious. "Werewolves are like any other human on the planet, in that there are those who are good, and there are always those who are bad." I ran a hand through my hair as I wondered how I would fit in the fact that hunters existed, and that I hail from a deep-rooted history of them… and then the whole Allison thing… and then my whole family history… Ugh, this is too much for one night.

I shrugged past him to begin pacing, and he watched my every move, hanging off my every word. "It's—it's complicated,"

"Clearly," He raised his eyebrows, and I crossed my arms, running a thumb over my lips.

"If you stick with us, and you let us guide you through it, then you'll become… one of the good ones." I finally settle on, turning to look at him again. He nodded slowly, but something in his posture still seemed like he was itching to get the hell out of here. It made me wonder how much of this he would actually listen to. "If you try to do it alone… you'll lose control. This is an especially unfortunate time because," I bitterly scoffed, pacing again. "Tomorrow is the full moon!"

"Oh, my god," He groaned, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous," he turned back towards the door, and I trailed after him anxiously. "I can't listen to this anymore."

"Liam!" I called, a little hurt by the way he was brushing me off. "Wait. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going home!" He said, throwing the bathroom door open. We paused when we saw Stiles and Scott still sitting outside the door, and he brushed past them as they hurried to stand.

"You can't leave!" Scott cried, and I hesitated.

"Let me drive you," I offered desperately. At least that way, I could try to calm him down a bit and explain a little more on the ride over to his house.

"I don't know," He started to bound down the stairs, pausing at the bottom when he realized there was no pain as he did so.

"Liam, you're not even wearing shoes," I pushed past Scott and Stiles and latched onto his shoulder, forcing him to turn back to me. "Come on. I'll just drop you off at your house, okay?"

He hesitated, and Scott and Stiles began to protest. "He can't leave!" Stiles exclaimed. "He's—he's—"

"He's exhausted!" I defended, lashing out my tone a bit as I dropped my hand from his shoulder. Stiles clamped his mouth shut and looked at me with slightly widened eyes. "And I'm taking him home. He's been through a lot. I told him the basics—"

"Simone," Scott broke in, his eyes worried. "What if he—" he glanced at Liam before continuing. What if he didn't make the night? What if the bite kills him? Would that be fast, or would it be slow? It was different for Jackson—he didn't reject the bite, he became a kanima. Speaking of which, I never even touched on the other creatures out there. Or the fact that I'm a hunter. Or, my family is, I don't really consider myself to be one… How can we tell him about that without scaring the bejeezus out of him? How can we get him to listen to us?

"What if I what?" Liam asked, looking between the grave expressions on our faces. Stiles, Scott and I all looked at each other with conflicted emotions. To tell, or not to tell? To scare, or not to scare? How can you tell someone that they _may or may not die tonight_? There's no time to Google it, and I'm not sure I would even find answers! I certainly won't find anything in my bestiary.

Alright. I'll admit it. We're way in over our heads, here. What—how did Derek even handle this? Oh, wait. He got them to volunteer. _Ugh_ ….

"Liam, what's your phone number?" I asked, pulling out my phone and conjuring up the texting screen. I slowed as I realized the room had grown silent. I cautiously looked up, to find the boys all gawking at me in horror. Except Liam, he was just stunned, and his mouth was guppying like a fish. "Oh!" My face flamed, and I was immediately flooded with embarrassment. "Not like that! I didn't—I mean, it's—not—" My mouth went dry. Why are they making this so awkward?! "It's in case you—feel…. Something going wrong."

"Something going wrong?" He glanced over at Scott and Stiles, and watched as understanding flooded their features. Scott even sagged in what appeared to be relief, which I shot him a scathing look for. If I want to ask for a boy's number, I will! He's not the boss of me… "Like what?"

Scott jumped in, finally. "Like… bleeding black—"

"Like your wound not healing," I cut in, sending Scott a look that promised certain death. He clamped his mouth shut and I tried to do damage control as Liam swayed on his feet.

"Black! I'm gonna bleed black?"

"No!" I exclaimed, and Stiles threw his two cents in.

"Well, you might—but only if you're dying—"

" _What_!" Liam backed up to the front door, and I pulled at my hair in panic.

"No!" I exclaimed, fumbling to smooth over the mess the boys are creating. "It's not—You won't die! You're not going to bleed black! That's like, worst-case scenario, you've already starting healing—" His hand groped for the door knob, and his head was shaking desperately back and forth in denial. "Liam," I scrambled forward to try and grab his arm, but he was already halfway out the door. "Just—this is why I wanted to handle this! They're morons! Don't listen to them,"

"She's right," Scott reassured, as they nodded.

"We don't know what we're talking about," Stiles added.

He turned and strode into the night, and I gestured wildly for them to stay behind before chasing after him. They exchanged hesitant glances, but never left Scott's house, nonetheless.

"Liam!" I hollered, as he fast-walked down the sidewalk. "Wait, come on, let me give you a ride!"

"I need to think!" He exclaimed, waving me off. "I need some time!"

"I know that, but you shouldn't be walking at night like this—"

"Why do you care," He suddenly shouted, whirling on me with an unreadable expression on every corner of his face. I froze in my tracks, my mouth hanging open as I felt the world shift a little under my feet and my blood run cold. "Why do you care so much?"

My eyes slowly trailed down to the ground, and my mind raced with what to say. "I…" I panted heavily, searching for the words to explain it. "It's… Can I be honest with you?" I asked, hesitantly peeking up at him, my gaze heavy with emotions.

He softened, apparently caught off guard by my intensity, and managed a jerky nod.

"I… I've seen a lot of bad things, Liam. A lot. And most of them—no… all of them have been because of this—this _thing_. This supernatural… catch twenty-two! It can be a gift if it's handled in the right way. But it can just as easily become a curse. Take it from someone who's been on the receiving ends of both… I don't want you to become another mistake." I couldn't look at him as I swallowed tightly, looking down at my feet. My voice was barely above a breath as I continued. "I like you, Liam. I don't want to see this become a curse for you."

He stepped closer to me, now close enough that I could reach out and hug him if I wanted to. "So… you're really going to help me?"

I felt my face morph into one of endeared concern, as my heart swelled for this boy. He was scared. He was alone, and he might be quick on the draw, and he might have a short temper, but the truth is that he's scared as hell. I blinked and forced myself to nod through the warm emotions singing in my heart.

I was sad for him; sad that he was dragged into this fucked up supernatural world. He deserves to be a normal freshman. He deserves to fight for a spot as captain on the lacrosse team, and try as hard as he can to earn an invitation to an upperclassman's party, and to find a girl who can give him something normal. He deserves a normal high school life—where figuring out a way to ask his crush to prom is his biggest concern, and the most he has to worry about on the night of a full moon is what to watch on Netflix.

And now, none of that can ever be his. Like Lydia so blatantly pointed out to me, we can never be normal. And he can never have any of those things. Not without the reality of his… _condition_ hanging over him. (I mean, he can still watch Netflix—obviously…) We do the best we can, but sometimes we mess up. And now we've dragged an innocent bystander into the mix. Guilt swelled over my heart, and I felt awful. I felt so incredibly horrible that I had a hand in doing this to Liam, and I swore to myself in that moment that I would do everything I could to keep the expression he has right now off his face. That lost, vulnerable, terrified expression that _we_ put there.

I will _make_ this right. I will make it up to him. He will be the best, strongest werewolf that ever walked the earth. I'll use all of my knowledge about what makes a werewolf dangerous, and I'll weed it out of him from the beginning. Starting right now. I reached up and put a warm hand on his shoulder, offering him a grin, and all of his anger and tension began to drain under my touch, and his eyes softened as he took in my smile. "With an alpha like Scott at your side, you have nothing to worry about."

His eyebrow twitched, his face unsure. "…What's an alpha?"

My smile grew tight and I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Let's get you home." I said, dropping my hand and resisting the urge—for the second time tonight—to take his hand. _Too soon_ , I reminded myself. _Too soon._

* * *

After exchanging my number with Liam, and dropping him off at his house, I came back home to find that Chris had waited up for me. My mind was a hundred miles away. Or, more like six or so, at Liam's house. Because it's on him.

I dumped the lo mein onto my plate with a heavy sigh, not realizing that Chris was watching me in poorly disguised concern. We had been consuming a _lot_ of take out, but this was better than the week straight of pizza. Still oblivious to his gaze, I trudged over to the fridge and began to root around for something to drink.

I pushed aside an empty pizza box— _told ya_ —and froze upon seeing a group of cherry cokes that took up most of the shelf, forgotten back in the very corner. My heart ripped open, and I felt a swell of pain roll through my whole body. Slowly, I put the box back in its place, giving it a rough smack when it caught on the edge of the fridge, and grabbed a water bottle before slamming the door shut.

Some magnets clattered to the floor, sending the note that I had left for Chris about studying with Malia sailing beneath the fridge. I threw my head back and groaned like it was the most ridiculous thing that happened tonight, and Chris finally broke his silence.

"Only the _wrong_ kind of soda left?" He cautiously asked, his teasing tone barely registering to me. I stiffened from where I had crouched on the ground. It still struck me as odd, and always caught me off guard—the way he was able to so casually reference Allison's demise.

Let me fill you in. It's an ongoing joke, or… it _was_ an ongoing joke in the house that Allison preferred cherry cokes above every other soda in the world, and that even the original coke flavor pales in comparison. Well, I couldn't stand the cherry flavor, and so, a war ensued. There was an ongoing debate, with pros and cons listed for both opinions on the matter hanging somewhere in the house. To be honest, my absolute favorite drink were diet citrusy drinks-like Seven-Up, Sierra Mist, Sprite... something which absolutely grated Allison's nerves because she's of the opinion that if a soda isn't dark, it's just carbonated, sweetened water, and don't even get her _started_ on diet drinks of any kind.

Ugh. So that's why it hurt me so much to catch a glimpse of the cherry cokes left untouched in the fridge. Every time I see something like that, I feel dead inside. Moments like that remind me how much I truly miss her. And Chris is able to make _jokes_ about it… I just don't understand. I can't laugh about it yet. I don't know if I'll ever be able to laugh about it.

I blinked at him and cleared my throat. "Um…. Yeah." I said.

"I'll pick some up tomorrow." He offered, and I nodded as I began to push the lo mein around my plate and my thoughts drifted back to Liam. Sounds of our forks scraping our plates filled the kitchen, where we shared the island as our table. I can't remember the last time we made use of the dining room.

Liam was more open on the drive to his house. With Scott and Stiles completely out of the equation, he relaxed, and I was finally able to see how much he was truly afraid of what was happening to him. I had to reassure him about seventeen times that he _wouldn't_ die, and he didn't stop bringing it up until I _swore_ I wouldn't let him die.

Which, maybe was a mistake. But then, you didn't experience the puppy eyes he gave me! You didn't feel the way I did when he stared at me with those wide, terrified, lost blue eyes, his bottom lip even scrunched up with worry! So before you judge me, remember… I'm a sucker for this guy. Hook, line, and sinker. So stick that in your juice box and suck it!

…..I'm in so much trouble.

I looked down and poked my phone to life, sighing heavily when I saw the time. I'm only disappointed and worried because it's past midnight, there's school tomorrow, and I'm still awake. It has nothing to do with the fact that Liam's not texted me to at least let me know he's okay.

Nothing at all.

I sighed again.

Chris cleared his throat. "How did studying go with Malia? It ran pretty late…"

I pressed my lips together. "She needs a lot of help." That was a weak excuse even to my ears, and I winced as he looked at me from the corner of his eye. _Crap_! "I mean, if she doesn't get any better, she's going to fail. And if she fails she'll be held back. I'm just looking out for her, ya know? I'm just trying to make sure she doesn't lose control." _Liam, Liam, Liam, Liam._ Chris frowned at me. "Of her life." I quickly added, and he set his fork down.

"What's going on?" He asked, his business-face on. I call this his business face—because his chin juts out, his mouth loses all trace of his smile and turns down at the edges, his eyes tighten and harden to little grey balls of impenetrable steel, and his entire body goes stiff like he's already dead. That last part is a new development.

"I told you," I looked down at my food and pushed a snowpea to the edge of my plate. "She's in peril of being held back… Very serious situation, Chris. If she's held back, she'll be in _my_ grade! I'm barely sixteen! And Stiles would graduate without her."

"You skipped a grade," He pointed out. "That's why you're so young."

I scoffed, waving him off. "Technicalities."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Sure there's nothing else?"

I subtly glanced down at my phone and poked it again, resisting the urge to sigh when I didn't see any texts. "Nope," I dismissed. "I'm just… stressed."

"You could tell me, you know." He adds, putting a hand over mine. Something in my chest jumped. I fought the swell of emotion rising inside me, but made the effort not to pull my hand away. "I'm here for you. I want you to tell me these things."

Tears clouded my vision, as the night finally overwhelmed me. I thought back to how helpless I had felt when I saw Sean heaving at Scott's arms, and Liam's fingers disappeared from the edge, and all Sean had to do was lower his face down and he could've—he could've ripped Scott's throat out, and it would all have been over.

It was one of the worst moments of my life. My eyes clouded with tears, and I sucked in a hot breath. "It's—nothing." I managed, shaking my head. "I'm fine. It's fine."

His arms circled around me, which was the opposite of what I needed. Didn't he hear me? I'm fine! I don't need a hug! I pushed against his arms, still murmuring that I was fine, and his hand reached up to stroke my hair, and I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, fighting the intolerable pain that was raging inside me.

"I miss her, too," He whispered, his voice broken, and that was it. I was done. I locked up and a silent wail passed through my lips. He squeezed me tighter, holding me together as I gave in and buried my face in his chest and finally, mercifully, let it all go.

* * *

 _ **Hey guys! So, first of all - I'm really grateful for all the follows and favorites I have received! I mean, hell yeah! Welcome to the story :)**_

 ** _It's just that I would really appreciate it if I could get some feedback. I'm still unsure of what you guys think so far, and I'm used to having more reviews at this point. But I'm still getting plenty of follows/faves, so, I guess you're all liking it! I'm just a little concerned because it's like, radio silence. Do you have things you'd like to see happen? What do you think of Simone and Liam? Or of anything I'm doing at all?_**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"I need to talk to him." Scott insisted, trying to catch my eye as I rifled through my locker for my peer mentoring binder.

"I understand that," I said, taking a deep breath through my nose as I tapped my phone to life and scowled down at the empty screen. "But you're—" I hesitated, and he blinked at me, totally clueless. I glanced away. "How do I put this?" Phone still in my palm, I reached out to take him by the shoulders and kept my voice light and sincere as I said, "Scott, I love you—I really do, but you're kind of a moron."

He scoffed, throwing his hands up in denial. "That's— _true_!" I smirked at him and he sighed, deflating a bit. "Fine… but he's my responsibility now, Simone."

"Actually, he's _our_ responsibility now." Stiles chirped, stepping up beside Scott. Flanking him to his right was Malia, and I gave both of them a brief nod of acknowledgement before putting my two cents in.

"Look, so far, all of you are completely helpless," I gestured between them unabashedly as they all gave me varying looks of offense. "And if I let you handle this the way you've _been_ handling it, you're going to fully muck up any progress I've already made."

"Okay, so what's the plan then, Gidget?" Stiles scoffed. My eye twitched at the nickname he'd given me almost the day he'd met me. He must have assumed that he could get away with calling me that, that I wouldn't know what he was referencing—but I did. Gidget is a book about ' _the little girl with big ideas_.' He seems to get a kick out of the fact that the name is a combination of girl and midget, and I refused to admit how well it applied to me. Especially since he usually says it like it's an insult.

"Tonight's the full moon." I said, and Malia tensed with frustration and dread, exchanging a quick glance with Stiles while I shrugged a shoulder and checked the time on my phone again. "Which means that he needs to be contained, because we've all seen his temper."

"Contained?" Scott frowned. "How are you going to do that?"

I sighed heavily and closed my locker, turning to give them all a tight-lipped smile. "I haven't figured that out yet," I said, and Stiles threw his head back

" _Why_ are we letting her handle this!?"

"Because I'm the only one who doesn't have someone else to watch tonight!" I was careful to keep any literal terms like _phase_ or _werewolf_ out of my words _._ I paused, glancing briefly at Scott as I quickly amended, "Or something to do."

"Why are you trying to do this alone?" Malia frowned like it was all pure logic, and I had to appreciate her simplistic views on life. "We're offering you our help."

"I know that, and I appreciate it." I paused and glanced around the halls. "Right now the biggest problem is that none of us have heard from him since last night. I sent him a text this morning, but he's not responding…" I think I did a pretty good job of keeping the offense off my face because actually, no. I'm not offended. I barely know him. I _don't_ care that I was checking my phone every time I rolled over in bed, the guilt I felt literally poisoning my physical well-being, and unable to keep the images of what happened at the hospital out of my head. Sleep was a joke. I basically tossed, checked my phone, turned, closed my eyes for a bit, tossed some more, and then checked my phone again. All night and all morning. And still. Nothing.

But it's fine. I'm fine with it. No big deal. He's probably okay.

It's fine.

"Uh oh," Stiles' eyes were darting over my face, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "I know that look… You know what guys, we don't have to worry, because she's gonna kill him anyways—"

"Stiles!" I reached out and smacked his shoulder, rolling my eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You reek of anxiety and frustration." Malia bluntly stated. My eye twitched again.

"Well, if you two are done psychoanalyzing me—"

"That's not what I'm doing. I can just smell your pheromones—"

Stiles hand came up to cover Malia's mouth, and he gave her a sweet smile as he quietly shook his head no at her. She blinked at him and scowled, and I took the opportunity to step away.

A flash of blue caught the corner of my eye, and I whipped my head around just in time to see Liam's form retreating rather quickly in the opposite direction of us. My heart took off at a gallop, and I wasted no time in barreling after him.

Praying that the others would respect my wishes and not try to follow me, I reached out and grabbed his shoulder to wrench him around. He started to snap at me, but when his eyes caught sight of my face he clamped his mouth shut and settled for taking a step back.

"No!" He put his hand out as a warning. "Leave me alone!"

"Is that really what you want?" I retorted, a frenzy of emotions whirling in my heart as he hesitated. "To go through this alone?" I stared at him intently as he looked away from me and clenched his jaw, his bright blue eyes darkening like stormy skies. "Or do you want me to be _here_?"

Chin still lowered, he lifted his eyes to me and I took another step forward. The silence was good. At least he wasn't running away. Now that the hostility seemed stymied—at least for now, I took in a deep breath and looked pointedly at his wrist where his hand hung at his side. He'd changed clothes from the night before, to a dark blue shirt with grey sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and it looked like the sort that baseball players wear. The white bandage wrapping his wound looked to have bled through a bit, and the stain was dark. So dark that it worried me.

"How are you?" I asked, my voice gentler than usual. Following my gaze, he started to hide his hand behind his back and opened his mouth, and somehow I knew he was going to try lying to me. The expression on my face must've said it all because he clamped his mouth shut and sighed before answering.

"It's fine," He ground out, shifting on his feet, and my eyes narrowed. Liam suddenly breathed out an almost inaudible snort and the smallest grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked away again. "You're determined, aren't you?

"That seems like a nice way of saying harassing," I teased, and this time a full-blown grin ate away the anger on his face. He sighed and lifted his hand up to look at it with a troubled gaze.

"It's—it's fine. I mean it. It's _totally_ fine." Turning to glance around the hallway, he took my hand and I tried not to react to that as he dragged me to a corner of the hallway. I furiously fought a blush that threatened to rise to my cheeks as he leaned in closely to whisper to me, his warm hand still wrapped around mine. "Look," He let go of my hand and I took a breath of relief as he began to unravel the bandage from his wrist.

I blinked at the smooth skin that was hidden under the bandages. Completely, totally devoid of blood or even so much as a scrape, his wrist was just as tanned and normal looking as the rest of his arm.

"What does this mean?" He worriedly whispered, standing so close to me that I could feel the heat rolling off of him.

I pulled a taut smile onto my lips in an attempt to convey relief. "You accepted the bite."

"Well," He scrunched his face dubiously at me. "I wouldn't say that. I'm still pretty pissed."

Snorting, my heart warmed a bit as I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "No, Liam." I steered him down the hall a little ways and pushed him into an empty classroom so we didn't have to worry about passing students anymore. "I mean your _body_ didn't reject the bite."

He paused, his face curiously unchanging as he stared at me. "The werewolf bite."

"Uh, yeah…" I looked at his flat expression and frowned a little. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

"Do I believe that I'm going to sprout hair and howl at the moon tonight?" He angrily snapped, taking a step towards me as his eyes flashed in the slightly darkened classroom. " _No_ , Simone! I don't believe that!"

"Well, stop!" I pathetically argued, my mind grasping at straws with how to convince him at this point. "Look at your arm! How do you explain that?"

"I—I don't know! Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought!"

"Oh, okay, how about your _shattered_ ankle, then?"

He froze, slowly looking down at his foot that he had no trouble standing on. The same one he'd been hospitalized the day before over. "I… don't… _know._ " He'd grown still as he became more and more distressed, freaking out for obvious reasons, and I panicked as I realized he was about to get pissed and leave.

"Liam, _please_ listen to me!" I took a desperate step forward and tried to lock gazes with him, stepping in his path every time he tried to dodge me. "This is serious, okay? Now, I promised that I'd never lie to you!"

"Oh yeah? You kept _this_ a pretty big secret, didn't you?" His voice was the most biting tone he'd used on me so far, and I fumbled as I tried to regain my footing with him.

"What was I supposed to say? You think I don't know how this sounds? You think I don't know how crazy this is? Of course I know, Liam! I live with it _every day_. My life is _overflowing_ with shit that doesn't make sense! Nothing about my life is as it should be!" My mind flashed to Allison, and I suddenly lost my voice as I sucked in a steadying breath and broke off. I'd gotten my feelings on the matter under control, but last night Chris forced all of the demons I thought I'd buried back to the front of my mind. I was battling them, along with everything else today. Liam had grown quiet as he watched me, his anger dissipating as I looked anywhere but at him. "I'm not telling you this to fuck with you, or to scare you. I'm trying…" Rolling my eyes to the ceiling temporarily, I willed the burn in my eyes away and looked back at his face. "I want to help you. You deserve to know everything, Liam. You deserve the truth."

"The truth is, _I'm fine_. Okay?" He backed towards the door, his face screaming with frustration and his eyes tortured with hidden fear. "Nothing is wrong with me; my wrist is fine, my ankle is better, and I am _fine_." He turned his back to me and set for the door.

" _No_." Anger welled inside me as I crossed the distance between us, getting between him and the door as I gave him a rough shove farther into the classroom. Liam stumbled back and gawked at me, fury evident on his face as he quickly planted his feet on the ground and squared off at me like I was a lacrosse player and we were on the field. "You're not! You're not _fine,_ Liam!" I tilted my head and got closer, and his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared a bit as he visibly controlled his anger when I took another step and cornered him. "Don't you get it yet? You're not fine anymore! And it's okay to feel afraid, or angry, or whatever you feel like you need to feel! Stop pushing it down. Stop denying the truth! You're not okay, and you need to own up to that and look it in the face, or else it's gonna take control and you won't be able to stop it."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He exclaimed, taking a step forward and almost running straight into me. It forced me to step back, and he loomed over me as he continued. "You want the truth? The truth is, I'm trying to start fresh here! I really screwed up at my last school, okay?" His eyes flashed with guilt and he looked down at his feet, still clenching his fists, but for a different reason now. "…I'm just trying to be better now." I wanted to do something to help him because he's talking about this like he has a choice. "So the last thing I need is for something else to get in the way of that."

My fingers came up before I could stop them, running a trail down his healed wrist, and I felt his pulse jump as I wrapped my fingers around it and locked my gaze with his. My heart hammered in my chest and I murmured, "It won't get in the way, Liam. I promise. I won't let it."

I stared up at him through my bangs, which had fallen in my eyes when I looked down to grab his wrist. His eyes burned into mine and I felt lightheaded as I watched his hand come up to brush some hair out of my eyes, frowning as he looked at me like I was the most difficult poem he'd ever tried to read.

He stood so close that I felt the heat radiating from his chest to mine, and we both held our breath as we waited for something—something to happen. What? What was happening? It felt like a magnet was pulling us closer, drawing me into him. The closer I got, the more I could _feel_ him; sense his anxiety even as it melted away when his blue eyes relaxed.

I felt like my heart was in my throat, and every time his eyes flitted between mine my heart would stutter, and all I knew was that whatever intoxicating effect he had on me, I needed _more_.

"Simone, I just…" He'd dropped his hand from my hair to his side, but it came up and landed on my hip, his fingers gripping me tightly. His palm warmer than I'd anticipated, it surprised me and made me jump back. Somehow, he'd turned us, and I felt the wall at my back as I waited with bated breath for him to finish what he was saying—

The bell rang, signaling that we had a minute to get to class, and like that our gaze broke and we both looked away to draw deep, steadying breaths. Liam stepped away from me, his hand sliding off my hip.

"I need to go," He frowned absentmindedly, apparently flustered as he adjusted the strap of his book bag on his shoulder. He didn't even look back at me as he suddenly rushed out of the room.

* * *

 _Not good, not good, not good!_

I'd stood in the classroom for probably another thirty seconds—max—before I was able to rein in the intense torrent of emotions that I was high on.

Once I felt steady on my own two feet, I realized Liam had taken off. Again. And I was no farther than before. Hell, if anything, I was only more confused and desperate to get him to listen. It seemed like the harder I tried, the farther he slipped away.

Or the faster he ran. But that's just too bad, isn't it? Because I'm not about to let this go.

Stiles was right when he said I could use my advantageous position as a peer mentor to our benefit. I'm not sure if Liam decided to go to class, because all he said was that the 'had to go'. That could mean that he'd left the school. The only choice I have right now is to head to his next class and see if he's there—if he's not, I'll text Scott and he can go to look for him.

It's not the best plan. But it'll have to do. As I stepped into the class, Mr. Harris—who teaches the majority of the science classes here at Beacon Hills—turned to scowl at me until he caught sight of my face.

Now, that's not to say that he smiled and welcomed me in with a parade or anything, but his scowl lost its venom, and his gaze wasn't quite as acidic. He liked me because I was his 'star pupil'. I think it also has something to do with the fact that even though I've been notoriously involved with Scott and Stiles, I don't fawn over them or make excuses for them. I'm different from Lydia because as petty as it sounds, she's had her fair share of break-downs in school before, and I think because of that Mr. Harris is weary of the red headed banshee. He doesn't want to do anything to set her off. He's not the best teacher, but he's still a caring man, and I believe that it takes a certain type of person to become the mentor of teenagers—he's got to care about us in some capacity, after all. He can be intimidating and cold, but I do believe that he cares. So seeing Lydia's little melt-downs is not a fun experience for him.

But me? In Mr. Harris's eyes, I'm just a really smart girl, with a really tragic background that no one seems to know, plenty of manners, and a bit of a reputation. But hey! I always turn in my homework.

"Ms. Argent," He greets, turning on his stool at the front of the class to raise an eyebrow at me. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" His hand still held a red grading pen, and as I approached I could see that the paper he was marking didn't have much white left on it. I pressed my lips together and looked back at him.

"Good morning, Mr. Harris." I decided maybe a little brown nosing couldn't hurt. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at me, so I continued. I set my binder down so he could see the page I'd printed out and stuck in the cover, marked PEER MENTOR, and comprehension flitted through his eyes before I could utter a word. But I continued anyways. "I was wondering if you might need a little help this morning?"

"Ah," He smiled darkly at his class before turning back to me. "Yes, it seems that the Jr. High is spending too much time on musicals and reciting poetry." My hand tightened on my binder. "These new freshman are even more hopeless than the last group! The majority of them have absolutely no idea who Charles Darwin is. Their pretests are _physically_ sickening. I've spent half a year already trying to beat the concept of Gregor Mendel's work into their hormonal little minds, but perhaps hearing it from someone their own age will warrant more of a response."

I lifted a corner of my mouth into an attempt at a smile, but it might've come out as more of a grimace. "That's what I'm here for," I chirped, quickly swiping up my binder and turning to face the class.

Most of the tables were occupied by now. The bell to start class had rung about thirty seconds before I entered, but it seemed that Mr. Harris had been taking attendance. "You can sit at this front desk until we're ready to begin, Ms. Argent." Mr. Harris pointed at the desk that's usually served for disobedient students, since it's litearlly pressed right against his own desk and facing away from the class.

I didn't say a word as I scanned all the faces. The majority of them were familiar, as they gossiped and quickly tried to fill out last night's homework. It was painfully obvious which ones were cheating off someone else who'd actually _done_ the work because they would rush to jam their papers into hiding places when Mr. Harris turned his head their way.

I bit my lip when I looked over every head in the class twice and realized that Liam was nowhere to be seen.

 _Crap. Not good, not good, not good!_

I flipped my binder open and busied myself with shuffling useless papers around, trying to look like I was doing something as my mind battled against itself. Should I just text Scott?

 _No! Liam deserves a chance. He still has time._

Class has started, and he's not here.

 _It's not even been five minutes._

Fine. I'll give it five minutes…. But if doesn't show up soon, I'm texting Scott! I flitted my gaze over all the faces of my would-be class and sighed again before shuffling my papers some more.

 _Ten minutes._

You're pathetic.

I clenched my teeth and tried to focus on Mr. Harris. I might've come here to try and talk with Liam, but I'm still a peer mentor. It'd probably be good if I knew what was going on today in class.

"How many of you do the grocery shopping?" Mr. Harris meanly taunted, knowing full well that most of these kids probably only go to the store to throw useless junk food in their mom's carts and give them pouty faces until they'd won.

Dead silence fell over the class, as a couple of cheaters passed homework back to their rightful owners. Mr. Harris either didn't notice or simply didn't care, because he rose from his seat and began to make his way around the desk. He held a yardstick in his hand as he spoke—probably an intimidation tactic—and began to absently smack his open palm with it. "None of you?"

Three breaths passed, and I watched as one small, hesitant hand towards the middle of the room crept up. Mr. Harris latched onto that student and jabbed his yardstick in their direction. "Mr. Hewitt!"

Ah. It was the hand of Mason Hewitt, one of the nicest people I'd ever met in the school. Mason seemed regretful for having spoken up. He quickly dropped his hand as well as his gaze, glancing up at the unforgiving teacher periodically. "It seems that not all of you are inept parasites, after all. Mr. Hewitt, what do you buy when you go to the grocery store?"

Mason shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know, um… eggs. Milk. Cereal." Mr. Harris raised an eyebrow, bidding him to go on. "Uh… Laundry detergent. Bread, bacon, biscuits—"

"Aha!" Mr. Harris exclaimed, pointing his yardstick out to silence Mason. "Bread, you say? Now that's interesting. When you buy this bread, do you look at the ingredients? Is your family partial to white or wheat?"

Mason scrunched his face up and glanced around at his classmates, who were just as clueless as he was. "Um… Mr. Harris?"

"White bread contains a disturbing amount of sugar, as most of you probably are already aware." He paused, glancing down at a student who was a bit on the pudgy side. "…Or maybe not." Continuing down the aisles, he tapped his yardstick on the floors as he went. "What else is bread made of?"

"Flour." Spoke up one brave soul.

"Yes! Good, go on."

"Salt?"

"Probably milk."

Mr. Harris sent that last one a withering look. "Yes, _probably_ milk. You copied that answer from your neighbor just like you did last night's homework." The kid stiffened and sank in his seat. "Yes, I noticed. Detention. What else would you say is _probably_ needed to make bread?" Silence reigned again. Mr. Harris's beady eyes swept over the room as he waited for an answer. "Think! What's the _one_ ingredient that bread needs in order to bake properly?"

He waited an absurdly long time. It became evident that no one would answer, save for one poor student who weakly suggested food coloring, and Mr. Harris sighed heavily before turning to face me for the first time. "Ms. Argent, would you be so kind as to put these incompetent farrows out of their misery?"

"Yeast." I said, my voice quiet as the other students turned to peer curiously at me.

" _Thank you_ , Ms. Argent." He turned back to the class and folded his hands together. "Ms. Argent will be mentoring you today. Perhaps she will have more luck imparting you than I."

He went on to ask if the students they knew what yeast was, and at their tentative confirmation, he snidely asked if they thought it was a living organism. When they immediately said no, he all but fell to the floor in exasperation before finally explaining that they'd be putting that very theory to the test through a series of labs today.

As he split everyone into teams, I set about preparing the test tubes and packets of yeast. My phone weighed heavily in my pocket, and while Mr. Harris was distracted with handing out more detentions to the cheaters in his class, I quickly checked the screen.

Blank. It's been a little under ten minutes, and still: no Liam. I reluctantly pulled up Scott's contact and typed out a short message conveying that the guy was MIA, and sent one last lingering look towards the door.

But it was never opened. With a heavy heart, I pressed send and turned back to the task at hand.

Seven minutes later, Scott had quickly responded that he was ' _on it_ ', and the class had been divided and supplied with the necessary materials to continue. They were being their typical high school selves, playing with the goggles and making jokes about rising yeast, when the door suddenly opened.

I was so relieved and surprised that my pen actually fell from my fingers as Liam stepped into the class.

"Mr. Dunbar!" I quickly sank to the floor behind the teacher's desk to pick up my pen, peering around the corner tentatively. My heart raced as Liam clenched his jaw and turned a hard, dreadful gaze to the teacher. "Late again?"

Liam remained silent and sent a quick glance over in the direction of Mason before finally responding. "I had trouble with my locker."

I frowned at that lame excuse as I typed out a frantic new text to Scott reassuring him that Liam had finally shown up to class. "As weak and mundane as that excuse is, I actually _don't care_. Since you're late and I'm too annoyed with you to go over all the instructions again, you'll have to work with Ms. Argent." _Shit!_

Liam's face shifted into that of complete shock and confusion. He suddenly glanced around the room and I rocketed to my feet, knocking into the stool Mr. Harris sat in earlier.

My face flamed and I took in a quivering, nervous breath as I blinked at Mr. Harris and nodded sharply. Liam gaped at me and did not look happy about my inexplicable presence in his classroom, his eyes narrowing a bit as Mr. Harris continued to lecture him about being late.

To my surprise and Liam's relief, Mr. Harris didn't give him a detention. He simply scolded him and sent him on his way towards me.

I felt like my heart was in my throat. I shifted nervously as Liam made slow, measured steps towards me, his face conveying about sixty different emotions as he made his way over.

He looked like he wanted to yell at me. At the same time, his face was tinted a bit red with anticipation, mirroring my own sentiments—because where had he truly been? Why did it take so long for him to get to class? Why did he run away? What—what's that look on his face!?

He came to a puttering stop at the desk in front of me and I was overwhelmed with the smell of his fresh, dizzying cologne. He opened his mouth and I smacked my pen down on the desk.

"Ahh," I choked out, all but stumbling around the corner of the desk. "I'll get the lab supplies!"

And with that I scrambled away from him and began to rifle through the required equipment with shaking hands. _Shit, shit, shit, shit!_

Stop being a wuss! Get over there, and demand to know where he's been!

 _But did you see his face?_

Get a grip! You're an _Argent_. You can handle one inconsequential expression from a cute boy.

 _…But did you see his face?!_

I groaned quietly to myself and pressed my fingers into my eyes for a moment. When I felt a little more under control, I lifted the box of supplies and made my way back to the desk.

* * *

 _ **I missed the fluff that this story has :) I needed a quick little break from my other fic, so I headed on over here to write another chapter! I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the fact that this fic has already garnered over 3,000 hits (!) and has been put into a community! :D Seriously!? You guys are awesome!**_

 _ **What do you guys think?!**_

 _ **Leave a quick review letting me know! Thanks for reading!**_


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